


Watching You, Watching Me

by DevilMadeMeDoIt



Series: Watching You 'verse [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: (i promise!), Alastair is Hell's own Martha Stewart, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, BDSM, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dark Crack, Demon Deals, Demonic Possession, Dominant Castiel, Episode Related, F/F, Falling In Love, Feels, Flashbacks, Fluff and Smut, Going to Hell, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jealous!Cas, Light Bondage, M/M, Making Love, Marathon Sex, Mindfuck, Panic Attacks, Panty Kink, Psychic Abilities, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, SPN/Buffy rules of death apply, Sharing Clothes, Submissive/Bottom Dean, Temporary Character Death, always a bottom!Dean, british!cas, buffy/SPN fusion-y, hunter!dean, mentions of drug abuse/suicide attempt, waistcoats are the only acceptable clothing options, watcher!cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-21 00:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 90,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilMadeMeDoIt/pseuds/DevilMadeMeDoIt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU (loosely follows s.3 plot)</p><p>Dean Winchester is a young hunter who <i>really</i> doesn't think he needs a Watcher, especially some stuffy librarian Watcher.<br/>Castiel Novak is a Watcher still struggling to prove himself after a past indescretion when he's assigned to be paired with a previously-unknown hunter. In order to work closely with the hunter, he must take the position of librarian at the Sioux Falls High School.<br/>From the beginning, they are drawn to each other, but they each have secrets and a prophecy or two that will lead them to entangle their lives around each other, for better or worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester was an absolute natural when it came to three things; hunting, being charming, and working on his car. He could pull off a flawless salt-and-burn without back up, could bluff and bluster his way through any sticky situation, charm his way into or out of just about anything, and could make his Baby purr like any professional mechanic.

 

What he was not a natural at? Starting over at a new school. Dean’s childhood could never be described as consistent, so as his father had moved them from town to town, school to school, Dean figured he should at least be used to it. But he absolutely hated that I-don’t-know-a-soul feeling anxiously squirming its way through his gut right now.

 

He had dropped Sammy off at his new middle school already, and they had been running just a little late (It was most definitely because Dean couldn’t find his car keys and not because he wanted to wait out the crush of students at the high school. Yep.) so Dean had had to walk his little brother into the school’s office to sign him in.

 

As he parked his car in the student parking lot, an immaculate 1967 Chevy Impala left to him by his father, he rolled his eyes at how excited Sammy had been to start school. He’d been chattering non-stop all morning (all week, really), his long, gangly body practically wagging with an invisible puppy-dog tail. Sam was smart, and curious about everything. He was always picking up little random pieces of trivia and was always reporting to Dean about some bit of obscure lore he had read in one of Bobby’s old books. No matter how many times they had moved, he was never fazed by it. Kid had been practically drooling in the car on the ride that morning about what his first homework assignment might be.

 

Dean, on the other hand, was dying. He was pretty sure of it. He had agonized over what to wear, wondered if the painstakingly styled bed head was last month’s hair here. He opened the car door, savoring the familiar creaking sound, slid booted feet out of the car and stood, needlessly pulling his carefully selected clothes back into place. He was wearing a pair of comfortably broken-in jeans that were just that perfect amount of faded and ripped that people would pay for , but for Dean they were simply a product of only having so many pairs of jeans and not enough cash to buy more.

 

God he wished that hunting was a paying gig. Bobby was a hunter too, but he owned his own salvage yard, made enough money to make ends meet for them. Unfortunately buying new clothes for school wasn’t really part of the budget, and Dean had used the fifty dollars Bobby had given him to buy Sammy some new jeans. The kid grew so damn fast he was outgrowing his clothes almost faster than they could buy them.

 

Once upon a time, his best friend Gabriel had suggested jokingly (probably) that Dean and his dad should charge people for saving their lives. Dean had thought it hilarious at the time, but now he felt a sharp stab of pain at the thought of Gabe. They had gone to school together for the two years that Dean was at Lawrence High School back in Kansas, before the Incident that had gotten him kicked out and Gabriel sent away, and before Dad had died in front of him. They had hated each other at first, Gabriel was always playing jokes on people and Dean had never really liked pranksters who thought they could just pull crap and get away with it. Eventually Dean picked up on the fact that Gabriel only ever seemed to prank the jerks, the guys (or the occasional girl) who thought they were better than everyone else and walked all over people. He had started to appreciate Gabe’s style of practical joking, the punishment always fit the crime or as he had said “giving people their just desserts”, but he tried whenever he could to keep Gabriel from causing any real harm to anyone. It didn’t always work though, and with one particularly vicious prank, he had turned Dean’s life upside down. Despite all the trouble he had caused for Dean and his family, he still missed his friend’s crooked smirk, his unique honey brown eyes that sparked whenever he had devised just the right trick to put someone in their place.

 

Yeah. Dean _so_ did not want to relive the horror show that had been the last few months they had stayed in Lawrence . It was one of the reasons that Dean was standing here, ( _not_ stalling) tugging on his charcoal grey tee and green plaid button-up, preparing to wade into uncharted waters. He sighed and raked a hand through his sandy brown hair, grabbing his dad’s old leather jacket and the army green duffel he used as a backpack out of the backseat. He hefted the bulk of the bag over his shoulder, feeling the comforting weight of his curve-bladed hunting knife shift around the old Gatorade bottle of holy water and the ziploc baggie full of salt he had stashed in there. How scared could you be when you were loaded for demons and monsters?

 

Turns out, scared was relative. Dean knew how to handle the supernatural, but as he glanced down at his watch he knew he couldn’t put off his terrible fate any longer. With more effort than he’d have like to admit, he pasted a cocky grin on his face and headed toward the front doors of the Sioux Falls High School .  
  
  


He managed to find the office without seeing another soul. Sauntering up to the front desk with a barely apologetic smile, he greeted the secretary, “Mrs. Harvelle” the nameplate on the desk read. “Hey there, I’m Dean. I just transferred here and I’m sorry for being late ma’am.” Dean smiled as contritely as he could, “I had to drop my little brother Sammy over at the middle school and well, kids ya know? Poor guy didn’t want to go in he was so nervous.” He grinned, the older ladies always cut him a break when he pulled the “I’m just a caring, responsible big brother” card. 

 

Dean was sure he had gotten away with it until Mrs. Harvelle reached out and smacked him upside the head. “Boy, don’t you think you can charm your way past me. You’ve gotta meet with the principal, Mr. McLeod, before you go to any classes and he don’t take very fondly to people keeping him waiting.” She fixed Dean with a stern look and he gulped. “Now you get your butt back there and get it over with. Come see me when you’re through and I’ll give you your schedule and things.” 

 

Dean just stood there, looking between her motherly pretty face and the door she was pointing at. She raised her eyebrows as he stood unmoving and then smiled as he started to walk by her desk slowly. He was so out of sorts, he almost didn’t notice the gentle hand she laid on his arm as he walked past. He looked at the hand and then flicked his eyes up to her softly lined face, eyes crinkled up in a small warm smile. She squeezed his arm. “Now don’t you let him intimidate you sweetie. He means well enough, usually.” With that cryptic reassurance, she gave him a push towards the door. He turned to stare at the door as he heard her pick up the phone. “Mr. McLeod? Dean Winchester is here to see you now.”

 

A minute later the door opened on a shorter man dressed in a sharp monochromatic black suit. He looked at Dean with one eyebrow raised as if unimpressed. “Hello, Dean. Follow me.” He turned and walked down a short hallway, the expectation that Dean should follow unsaid. The guy looked like no principal Dean had ever met, and he had met a bunch. He looked like a mafia boss, someone who gave orders and expected them followed or else. 

 

Dean shrugged and followed him into a richly decorated office. It was all dark wood and plush, expensive looking carpets. McLeod walked behind the expansive wood and glass desk, settled his frame into a ridiculously regal looking leather chair and looked for all the world like a despotic king. Dean sat in one of the plain wooden chairs facing the desk and resisted the urge to squirm under the direct stare of the principal.

 

His eyes dropped to a manilla folder at least an inch thick and swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. 

 

That was his. The record of Dean’s “colorful” academic history.

 

Son of a bitch.

 

He looked up to find cynical brown eyes giving him a disinterested once over. “Dean, I’m not going to waste time here with you,” a cultured British voice cut straight to the chase. “Your records are…quite frankly not reassuring that you will be a good fit at this school.” He lifted the cover of the folder. “You were expelled from your last school after you were found guilty of pulling a disgusting prank on a model student, and have been in and out of various schools since you were in third grade. To be honest Mr. Winchester, I don’t expect much from you. Your grades are barely average, you have a history of missing school, getting into fights, and you associate with…delinquents.” He had paused before the last word, as if that was decidedly not the word he would have used to describe Gabriel.

 

Dean was bristling, ready to defend himself. What the living hell had just happened? Was this dude for real? What kind of principal basically tells a kid he expects him to fail?

 

“Now,” Dean’s eyes focused on that smug face. “ I can see from here that you will try oh-so valiantly to prove me wrong, but…” he held his hand out from him as if saying “What’s the point?” “I imagine it won’t take long before you begin to fall back on old habits.” His lips lifted in a predatory smirk as he looked Dean over. “I can smell expulsion on you like cheap cologne, and” he sniffed the air “just the faintest hint of jail.” With that he stood, tucking Dean’s file into a drawer as he turned away dismissively. “Do not make lateness a habit Mr. Winchester. I will be watching you closely.”

 

Dean sat for a minute, stunned, before he realized he was expected to leave the man’s office. He walked back to the front desk with a gob-smacked look on his face. Mrs. Harvelle took in his face and frowned. “Yeah, that was about how I thought that would go.” 

 

She put a hand on Dean’s arm again and glanced around the office briefly before speaking softly. “You listen here hon, I don’t believe that any student is ever a lost cause, no matter what his record says.” She handed him a stack of papers and a small planner book. “Now you be good, don’t go looking for trouble.” She looked down at the schedule in his grip. “You’ll have almost missed your first class by now, so why don’t you head down to the library and get your books. I’ll give Mr. Novak a ring and let him know you’re on your way.” She smiled at him, all motherly earnestness. “You feel free to call me Ellen, and if you ever need anything around here, you ask me. Now get going.” 

 

Dean left the office and walked as quickly as he could down the hallway until he found a bench against the wall. He sank down, sucking in a deep breath.

 

God damn.

 

What the hell? Dean scrubbed a hand over his face as the principal's words looped in his brain. Dean Winchester was no thug. And Michael? Model student? Like hell. He had been the thug, the bastard had blackmailed Dean, used the secrets he held over his head to control him. The things that he had...

Dean pushed that train of thought away and thought about what Ellen had said. “Don't go looking for trouble,” she had said. Yeah, it was that simple. He snorted under his breath. He was a hunter whether he wanted to be or not, and trouble, well trouble always found _him_ not the other way around.

 

He looked down at the papers in his hands and set the spiral-bound planner down next to his thigh on the bench. His schedule was on the top of the stack and he skimmed it quickly, glancing at his watch to check the time. He had just about missed his first class of the day, World History. It was too bad, too. Dean was no scholar, but he enjoyed learning about different battles and bad asses throughout history. His next class was Computer Science, but according to his watch, he had a good twenty minutes until he had to be there.

 

Ellen had told him to go to the library to get his books sorted out, but he was planning on doing everything within his power to avoid that place like the plague...well, at least until he had no choice. He needed books obviously. Dean felt like the principal had laid down a challenge, one he clearly didn't see Dean rising to. He would make every effort to be a better student than he'd ever been, if only to show that smug fucker up. Sam would be thrilled. Gabriel would have teased him endlessly for it.

 

So why was he avoiding the library? Well, that would be the other reason Dean was here at Sioux Falls High. His Watcher had been sent here to join the school's staff as the new librarian. Dean rolled his eyes at the thought. He didn't want a frigging Watcher, didn't think he needed one, but according to Naomi, “senior member of the Watcher's Council, Mr. Winchester,” there was no choice. He could deal with being forced to work with someone, he guessed he didn't have any alternative, but a librarian? The guy was probably about a hundred years old, dressed in nothing but tweed, and totally lame. Garth, a young hunter he'd crossed paths with, had an awesome Watcher. Rufus was a Bad Ass Mother Fucker for a Watcher.

 

As Dean sat in the empty hallway, his mind wandered back to everything that had led up to that crazy night this summer when he had first met the awkward hunter and his gruff, no-nonsense Watcher, and how he, Dean Winchester, former free agent, was now going to be Watched against his will.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> everything there is to know about Dean Winchester...so far :D

Dean had pretty much been raised the hunter's way. Hunters weren't born or anything, there were no sacred birthrights, and a person could find hunters just about anywhere if they knew what to look for. No, rather than being born, hunters were created, trial-by-fire style (in Dean's case, literally) by trauma or horror.

 

Many hunters were in their late 20's or in their 30's when they were forced to see what was really out there, but an increasing number of hunters were just kids or teenagers, often orphaned by one tragedy or another. Dean had been indoctrinated into the hunter's lifestyle at the tender age of four, when a yellow-eyed demon had broken into their home and had tried to snatch a 6 month old Sammy to offer up as a sacrifice. The demon had been interrupted by their mother, Mary, and the demon had killed her and set fire to Sam's nursery. John had woken up to the screams of his wife and had rushed the demon. The demon had fled, but Mary was beyond help. As the fire began to engulf the room, Sammy was scooped up from his crib and John called for Dean, shoving the crying baby into his arms, shouting out an order to take Sammy and run. Dean had stood shivering in the chill of that November morning, waiting for his daddy to tell him that mommy was alright. The reassurance never came.

 

In his grief, John swore that he would hunt down whoever had killed Mary. Little did he know that it was in reality, a whatever, and without a second thought drove what was left of his family into a world he didn't know yet existed. If it hadn't been for Bobby, John might not have made it as long as he had.

 

Dean had been about nine years old when Bobby Singer had exploded through their motel room door, a broken and bloody John hanging off his shoulder. Bobby had been in town at the same time their father had been tracking his wife's murderer, tracking demon omens. He had located an abandoned factory that he rightly figured the demon had holed up in, and had found John beaten and clinging to life instead. Searching John's pockets he'd found a key card to the motel room, and had hauled up the unconscious man and driven them to the motel.

 

Dean had been watching Sammy sleeping on one of the lumpy motel beds, alert for danger when the man had appeared with their dad. Without thinking twice Dean had raised the sawed-off John had given him for his birthday that year, and jacked a round into the chamber. Bobby had frozen where he'd stood before holding up one hand in surrender, the other holding onto John's waist. “Boy, this your daddy? He's lucky I found him when I did, he's hurt bad. Can I...Can I lay him down here? You can keep the gun on me if it makes you feel better, but if you shoot me I won't be able to help him.”

 

Dean had nodded, hesitantly. John had warned him to never trust strangers, but he didn't know what to do. He kept the gun trained like he'd been taught, on the core mass, and jerked his head toward Sammy still fast asleep on the other bed, trying to let the man know he needed to be quiet. The man had dumped John on the bed and pulled out a field medical kit out of the duffel on his back. Dean just stood, holding the gun, as he watched his father's wounds be methodically sewn up. When he had finished, the man simply stood up from the bed, walked over to a chair in the corner, and sat.

 

They passed the night that way; Dean's gun on the man, and the man sitting patiently in the chair, waiting for John to wake up.

 

When he had finally started to rouse, Dean was having trouble keeping his legs under him, his eyes closing against his will in long, slow blinks. The next thing he had known he was being pushed down gently onto Sammy's bed, Dean shaking his head, no, he couldn't go to sleep and let his family be vulnerable. The man chuckled as he fought his body, but didn't tell him to go to sleep. His eyes shifted over to John twitching and groaning on the other bed and his face hardened. He strode over to him and shook him. “Boy, you wake your stupid ass up right now. What the hell were you doing in that factory? And what in the name of God are you doing here with two little ones?”

 

After that night, Bobby had taken it upon himself to open John's eyes to what was really out there, smacked some sense into him, and showed him how to fight. Dean, always wanting to be just like his daddy, had wanted to learn how to fight too, to avenge his mama, but John had refused at first. When it became obvious to him that Dean wasn't going to just sit and wait around, he showed him how to use different weapons, how to track, and how to hunt. Mostly Dean spent his time watching Sammy, but John insisted that the skills he had learned be used to protect his brother, no matter what.

 

So that was what Dean had done. He protected himself and Sam when their Dad was out hunting. Dean made sure he and Sammy had food to eat, clean clothes to wear, and that they got to school most days, but his mind was never really invested in school. Life went on like that until Dean turned thirteen. John had been wrapping up a hunt and searching for new leads on Yellow Eyes when Bobby had called. Bobby had told him about the Watcher's Council, a worldwide organization of people who worked together with hunters to train them and keep them all accounted for. He had encouraged John to contact them, to find a Watcher for Dean. Dean had had a fit when he'd found out. Wasn't John training him? He didn't need some stranger coming into their lives, trying to tell him what to do.

John, feeling guilty for upending his son's life, decided not to call. He would handle his son, he knew that the boy needed a firm hand and voice to keep him focused, and didn't want to cause any further problems by forcing him to work with someone new. He began taking Dean out with him on smaller hunts, always at his back. As Dean got older, he'd started to give him solo hunts, generally easy salt-and-burns or doing recon for potential hunts.

 

This summer, Dean had been struggling to deal with getting kicked out of school, struggling to cope with having his dirty, painful laundry aired in public, and John had decided to ship Sammy off to South Dakota to stay with Bobby, and geared up to take Dean with him as he followed what he believed to be a solid lead on Yellow Eyes. They took off for Chicago, and charged headfirst into a trap.

 

Dean and John had split up a few blocks from a crumbling old building. They had planned on scouting out the place, having been informed that a close associate of Yellow Eyes was hiding there. Dean had found a way in first, and had crept up to the top level, following the sound of a voice. He'd slid silently down the wall of a peeling hallway, hunting knife up and ready. He'd swung his way into a wide room and found a girl chanting out an incantation in front of an altar. He had tried to get the jump on her, tried to take her down, but just as he had raised his arm to plunge the knife down, an impossibly strong hand had gripped his arm and hauled it behind his back. Another hand clapped down over his mouth, muffling his shouts.

 

The trap had been baited, and the girl had turned to sneer at him, telling him how his daddy was weak when it came to his boys. John had shown up guns blazing, but to Dean's dismay, the minute he'd seen his son held captive he'd thrown down his weapons. Dean had fought the body holding his, fought so hard that they put an arm around his throat and held, squeezed the air from his throat and the light from his eyes.

 

He had woken up, groggy, not remembered where he was at first. When the memories had flooded back, he'd sprung up from the dusty ground in a panic. His eyes had searched the room frantically, finally touching on a prone figure, hunched up on the ground. Denial screaming its way through his head, he'd run to the figure, reached out a shaking hand and rolled it over. His fathers blank, dead eyes had looked up at him, his chest had been ripped to bloody shreds.

 

Dean had jerked back from the body of his father, stumbling backward into a wall. He'd unconsciously shoved both hands into his hair and pulled as hard as he could, tried to wake up from what could only be a dream.

 

Dean never woke up. He'd sat against the wall of that dilapidated building and watched the sun arc its way through the windows from sunrise to sunrise. His eyes never lifted from John lying dead on the floor,his blood spread underneath him like a blanket of red.

 

The next thing he'd known, Bobby was in front of him, hauling him up bodily from the floor.

 

They had given John a hunter's funeral, Dean standing numb in front of the pyre, his arm around Sam as he'd cried his heart out.

 

One week later they were moving the little they had to Bobby's. They'd be living with him now. Distantly Dean was aware of feeling glad that Sammy would have some stability in his life.

 

Three weeks later found Dean chasing any hunt he could, ignoring Bobby's orders to stay home and to deal. Dean chased the pain with fighting evil sons of bitches and the occasional bottle of crap alcohol when he could sneak one of Bobby's or get someone to buy it for him. He had been getting reckless, trying to prove himself. To who he hadn't been sure, hadn't wanted to think too hard on it.

 

One night he had skipped town, looking for a hunt and finding nothing but empty roads and the company of his thoughts. He'd ended up standing down the block from a liquor store, trying to get some drunk to buy him something. He could hear voices coming from down the alley and he'd tuned into what they were saying as he waited for a mark to walk by.

 

He'd stilled with his effort to listen, and a grin spread slow over his lips when he'd heard one man say something about a ghost he'd seen. The other man had cackled and accused him of being drunk, but the other man had insisted, and actually said the only way he'd been able to see it was because he'd been drunk.

 

Dean's grin had widened, and he'd tried even harder to get some booze, except this time he'd had a plan in mind. He was going hunting, he'd decided, and that would kill the pain in his heart just as easily as the burn of alcohol would. Full of the kind of boy-on-the-cusp-of-manhood confidence of being 17 and invincible, he'd charmed some old dude into buying him a bottle. It had been crap, way way bottom shelf, but it had done the trick. Dean had sauntered around the small town, buzzing on cheap bourbon and getting steadily drunker, scanning the area constantly for signs of the ghost.

 

Dean had found it about three quarters of the way through his bottle, if the screams coming from the neat little row house just up the block was any indication. He'd run (he'd thought he'd run) to the door and yanked it open without a second thought, pulling his hunting knife as he crossed the threshold. He'd seen the ghost, the fucking thing was all claws, and it had been ripping its way into what Dean had assumed was the man of the house. The wife had been standing at the bottom of the staircase, just losing her shit.

 

He hadn't heard the pounding footsteps in the kitchen to his right over the thundering of his own heart as he'd set to tackle the thing. Midway through his lunge, something had grabbed onto the back of his jacket and he'd reeled, wildly cocking a fist back to wale on whatever was stopping him.

 

He'd frozen when he'd seen a face, two faces. One face was dark, grizzled greying hair and one hand fisted in Dean's jacket, the other holding a fucking bazooka of a Smith and Wesson 500. Next to the older man had stood a kid, maybe barely Dean's age, holding a legit samurai sword raised up and over his shoulder like a baseball bat. The kid's eyes had been enormous, looking almost painfully wide in his skinny, pale face.

 

The man had shouted, loud in the frozen silence in Dean's head. “Garth, get the hell over there and take that dirty bitch out. You got this kid!”

 

The kid, Garth, had reared back and let out a cry that Dean assumed was probably supposed to sound fierce, but had come out like on of Sammy's girly screams when Dean hid in his closet with a clown mask on. He'd swung the sword and drew the thing off Mr. Rogers (or whoever) and it faced off with him. He'd lunged and parried, gangly, but surprisingly had gotten in some hits, even as he took some.

 

Suddenly the thing had blinked out of sight and reappeared behind Garth, grabbing him and throwing him nearly through the kitchen table.

 

The man at Dean's back had cried out and let go of his jacket, lunging for the sword, but Dean had gotten there first. He'd grabbed up the sword and hadn't had time to think as he drew back and ran the thing through. It had choked, fading in and out of sight as it died. The dead man's screaming wife had passed out cold then.

 

“What the fuck!?” Dean had hollered, loud in his drunkeness and the rush of adrenaline. The man had given Dean a disgusted look and put a hand to his shoulder, shoving him down to the carpet.

 

“You wait right the hell there boy,” the gruff man had shouted as he went to check on the kid. He'd been knocked out and fallen in a heap on the kitchen floor, but had otherwise seemed ok.

 

Striding back to where Dean had been planted, the man looked down at him.

 

“Boy, who the hell do you think you are and why are you here?”

 

Dean couldn't think words. He'd been fighting not to puke.

  
  
“I'm....D'n W'chst'r. I....hunt.” With that he'd rolled clumsily over and lost everything he'd drunk.

 

“You are a crazy fucker you know that? You're a hunter? You can't be more than seventeen boy, where is your Watcher?”

 

Dean had glared up blearily at the man.

 

“Don't need a fuckin' Watcher dude.” He'd grinned. “I'm awesome all by myself.”

 

He'd screwed up his face in confusion as he looked up. “Wait...who're you?”

 

The man had huffed out a laugh and motioned with one hand to the lump in the kitchen, tucking his hand cannon into a holster under his arm. “I'm Rufus Turner, that one's Watcher.”

 

Dean had stared up incredulously. This guy? A Watcher? Weren't Watchers supposed to be old, nerdy dudes in tweed? He looked like a....

 

“I know, not what you'd think, right?” Rufus had chuckled then. “I used to be a hunter, but a nasty fight with a nest'a vamps busted my knees up all to hell, took me right outta the game.”

 

His face had turned then from one of amusement to one of what Dean had been embarrassed to recognize as concern. “Why you here alone, son? Wait, why are you here at all? This was Garth's assignment. He tracked this thing, and made the plan to take it down.”

  
  
Dean had decided he was done sitting on the floor and stood, wobbling a little. “Yeah, well, lucky I _was_ here or your boy'd be monster chow,” he'd muttered. Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, he'd looked up at the Watcher. “I uh....kind of skipped town, for a bit, trying to find something to hunt. Heard some bums talking about this ghost you had to be drunk to see. I uh...thought it might be fun.”

 

Dean had looked at Rufus' face then, curiously. “What was that thing anyway?”

 

“That was a Shojo, a Japanese spirit. This dude here had a curse laid on him for screwing over one'a his old business partners. It's killed a few other people related to this mook, and we've been tracking it since the first one. We'd just gotten the business partner to confess what he'd done right before we came here.” He'd looked at Dean hard then. “You didn't answer my question, kid. Why you here alone? Why don't you have a Watcher?”

 

Dean had fixed him with a glare. “I told you, I don't need a Watcher, don't have one. I been hunting since I was a kid, I know what I'm doing.” He hitched his chin up, daring the man to say he didn't.

 

“So I guess that's why you charged in here without a clue what might be on the other side of the door, and without the right weapons?” Rufus had just looked at him.

 

“Boy, you are gonna get yourself killed bein' that kinda stupid.” He'd held up a hand as Dean started to work himself up to shouting. “Enough, alright? Give me the number of where you're staying, or your parents...if you got em.” He looked Dean over with a flick of his dark eyes. “ Most kid hunters lost families, so I'm gonna guess you too?”  
  


Dean had nodded and rubbed his hands over his face. “My parents were killed by a demon. My brother and I live with our Uncle Bobby. Bobby Singer.”

 

Rufus had barked out a surprised laugh. “Bobby Singer, that old fucker.” he laughed again. “Bobby and I used to hunt together. We both got our starts in our 30's and you didn't get a Watcher back then, we were on our own.” His face sobered, chased away memories “Gimme his number kid. We need to get you home, and me 'n' Garth need to get outta here.”

 

Dean had reluctantly given up the number, waiting with a breath held as Rufus made the call. Bobby would be pissed. Dean had taken off on a wild tear and hadn't answered his phone for a few days.

 

He heard a muffled voice of the speaker of Rufus' phone. From then on Dean had only heard one side of the conversation between the two old hunters.

 

“Bobby Singer? Rufus Turner here man, how the hell are ya? Yeah, man I remember that. Good times. Hey listen, I got Dean here. Yeah, yeah he's ok. Man, I ain't your messenger service, you tell that kid whatever you want when he gets home. Actually I found him at a hunt me and my hunter were wrappin' up. Yeah man, I'm a Watcher now, crazy shit right? Fuck you man, I'll tell you what you can watch. Anyway, me 'n' Garth showed up to gank this shojo and found Dean drunk and tryin to fight it. No man, relax. He didn't get hurt, actually jumped in when Garth got knocked out and took the bitch out. Yeah, I told him he needs to get his ass back home pronto.”

 

Rufus had paused then, took a breath.

 

“Look Bobby, I know it ain't really my place, but why dont this kid have a Watcher? Coulda gotten himself seriously dead coming here alone. Yeah, I get it, I do, but the kid needs someone other that Uncle Bobby to keep him in line. Kid's a hell of a hunter, I tell ya, and I think a Watcher'd do him a world'a good if they could handle him.”

 

Rufus had turned and looked Dean in the eye as he went on.

 

“I don't gotta tell you this, but I have to report him to the council. Man, he needs a damn Watcher and you know it. Dammit, Bobby, I gotta do my job, it's your job to deal with his teenage bitch fit.”

 

Rufus hung up and had fixed Dean with a look.

 

“You get your ass home now, boy. Don't make me chase you outta town.”

 

Dean shoved his hands in the pockets of his dad's leather jacket, glared almightily at Rufus and stomped out of the room towards the door.

 

As he was walking out the door he heard a groan. “What'd I miss?”

 

–-----

Dean had drug his hungover ass back to Bobby's, squaring his shoulders as he walked through the door.

 

Bobby had been sitting in the kitchen, coffee mug in hand.

 

“You listen here, son. Three things ain't never happenin' again or you will be outta this house so fast you'll think you teleported.”

 

He looked at Dean, made sure he was listening.  
  


“One, you ain't ever gonna take another drink until you're at least 18, and if you can't handle your damn liquor, you don't need to be drinkin' it. Two, you ain't ever going on a hunt without tellin' me first and for damn sure not without tellin' me where you're goin'. Do you have any idea how fuckin' worried we were? How much of a wreck Sam was thinkin' we'd end up findin' you like your daddy? Third, if you see me callin' your phone, you damn well better answer or you better be dead or dyin'. You got all that, boy?”

 

Dean had hung his head.

 

“Yeah, Bobby. I fucked up. I'm sorry, man.”

 

“It ain't me you need to apologize to.”

 

“Yeah....I know. Won't happen again. Swear.” Dean meant it, too. He'd hoped to hell he could keep that promise.

 

“So about this Watcher business...”

 

Dean's face had screwed up into a scowl.

 

“Hey, you're the one that went off all by yourself and got caught. Ain't got no choice now, looks like you'll be getting yourself a Watcher, boy.”

 

Dean had balked at the grin in Bobby's voice, the one he was barely able to hold off of his face. He barked a laugh at Dean's death glare.

 

Dean had stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room. He'd been gearing up to slam the door when he heard a sound.

 

“Dean?”

It had been Sammy, peeking his mop-topped head out of his door, a worried and relieved look on his face.

 

Dean's pissed off mood evaporated. He felt like warm shit and now he felt like an ass. Sammy had been worried about him.

 

Son of a bitch.

 

He'd turned and held out his arms for his baby giraffe of a brother to crash into him with a crushing hug. Jesus, the kid was only 13 but he was nearly as tall as Dean, would only get taller as he grew up and into his body. Dean squeezed him tight.

 

“I'm sorry buddy. I went out lookin' for a fight and got whupped. I'm back now.”

 

Sam had looked up at his brother. “I heard Bobby talking about a Watcher....”

 

Dean had stiffened and Sam held on harder.

 

“Dean, it might be good for you. I don't want you to die.” Sam's voice had wavered and Dean definitely felt like an ass.

 

He could put up with a Watcher for Sammy's sake (maybe). He'd sighed.

 

“Alright.” he'd said and felt Sam's smile against his t-shirt. His arms squeezed tight again before he pulled away.

 

“I wonder who it'll be? Maybe he knows all kindsa cool lore like Uncle Bobby.”

 

Dean had shaken his head and ruffled his brother's hair, chuckling at his enthusiasm. If only Dean could get that worked up about the idea. He pushed his brother down the hallway.

 

“Get to bed you nerd.”

 

Sam stuck his tongue out. “Jerk.”

 

“Bitch.” Dean had smiled. “Love you buddy, see you at....like noon.”

 

He'd sworn he would never drink again.

 

–---

He'd had an enormous headache behind his eyes all night long and he knew it would only get worse. He'd washed up in the bathroom and had barely managed to strip out of his clothes and into a pair of clean boxers before passing out cold.

 

Dean had woken up to the sound of his head pounding in his ears. He realized that the pounding was coming from the door when he heard, “Boy, open your damn door. You've got a phone call from friggin England and I ain't payin' for you to take your sweet time just cause you got a hangover.”

 

Dean had groaned at Bobby's too loud voice and winced as he shifted gently out of bed. He stuck his hand out a crack in the door, eyes still pasted shut, for the phone. It was slapped into his palm and he'd thought he heard Bobby chuckling as he went.

 

Dean stuck the phone to his ear as he sat back down on the bed. “Whaddaya want?” he'd grumped into the phone.

 

There was silence, and then the faint sound of feminine laughter.

 

“Who the hell is this? Who prank calls from England?” he snapped.

 

“Oh, Mr. Winchester,” a prim voice said, laughter still teasing through the phone and Dean had had the distinct feeling he was being laughed _at_.

 

“My name is Naomi, a senior member of the Watcher's Council, Mr. Winchester. I understand that as of this moment you do not have a Watcher, and you have never been reported to us to receive training.”

 

There had been a pause and Dean realized she was waiting for him to answer.

 

“Uh. Yeah. No Watcher. I was trained by other hunters, not some dick in tweed on a power trip.”

 

He had been pissed, remembering the night before. He knew he should stop antagonizing but it hadn't helped.

 

“Mr. Winchester, I am afraid that there is no choice for you in this matter. You will be paired with a Watcher, and they will report to us regularly of your progress, or lack thereof. We are aware that you will beginning a new school in the fall, correct?”

 

“Yeah.” Dean had answered, not sure what that had to do with anything. Not like the Watcher would be going to school with him right? Oh, God he hoped not.

 

“We will be sending your Watcher to fill a position as a member of the faculty there, as it seems that you will need a watchful eye at all times.” Dean had huffed, but she continued. “He will be taking over the position of librarian and you will report to him by the end of your first day.”

 

The dial tone had filled his ear as he pulled it away from his head, staring. He'd rolled his eyes then. Of course. _His_   Watcher _would_ be a librarian. Couldn't they give that Garth kid to him and he could work with Rufus? Dude seemed more Dean's style anyway.

  
Dean had wandered outside after throwing on some clothes and grabbing a piece of toast and coffee. He found Bobby elbow-deep in some junk-ass purple mini-van. He'd looked up with a face that was twitching with the effort to hide a grin.

 

“So,” Bobby had said conversationally. “a Watcher.”

 

Dean scowled. “Yeah. A frigging _librarian_   Watcher.”

 

Bobby's laugh had been clear and loud. “Oh, shit. This is gonna be fun.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cas is british :D and a straightlaced former naughty boy.

Castiel Novak was in general, a patient man. He had received a brief call from the school secretary informing him that Dean Winchester would be visiting the library, visiting _him_ , shortly.

 

That call had been made over fifteen minutes ago. Dean, his new charge, had not shown up.

 

Castiel thought back to another phone call, a summons to meet with Naomi.

 

He'd been anxious during his entire walk to the Watcher's Council headquarters that incongruously sunny, summer morning. The mood currently riding him called for a blustery, grey day, but he'd supposed that even nature would try to keep him feeling off-kilter.

 

As he'd stepped through the front doors of the handsome brownstone, he'd longed for a rain-spattered umbrella to shake out, if only for the mere minute's delay it would allow him.

 

Naomi had kept a careful eye on Castiel for the last four years, following the...indiscretion he had been careless enough to allow to happen. She had impressed upon him the need for absolute propriety, squashed out with an elegantly heeled foot any remaining stirrings of rebellion within him. In four years he had done nothing, absolutely nothing that had not been requested of him, and had been so very careful to maintain professional distance from everyone.

 

Everyone except for Balthazar that was.

 

Castiel sighed, missing his friend. Naomi had disapproved of his continued friendship with Balthazar, concerned that he would encourage Castiel to step out of line, but try as he might, the cheeky bugger wouldn't let him shove him behind a wall of ice. Balthazar was a fellow Watcher, but he was currently only permitted to work with incoming young, new Watchers straight out of preparatory school. Balthazar was an absolutely shameless flirt, and had refused to reign in his urges for the sake of propriety when it came to working with hunters. Male or Female, Balthazar did not discriminate between objects of his desire. He had gotten caught up in a particularly sticky situation with a hunter, who, to Balthazar's utter surprise, would not return his affections. After that, Balthazar had been exiled to training what he called the fresh stock.

 

Castiel remembered standing in the entryway of the brownstone, his mind elsewhere when an elegant hand had waved in front of his eyes. He'd snapped back into himself and grinned at the bemused face of his friend, Anna.

 

“Hello, love,” he'd quipped, his voice rasping low in his throat.

 

“Darling, whatever are you doing standing out here staring?” her head had tilted just slightly to the side in confusion.

 

“Ah...stalling. Naomi has summoned me for a meeting.”

 

He'd run his hands down his sides, slightly sweating hands catching on the soft fabric of his black sweater and then adjusted the frameless glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.  
  


She'd looked at him, curious. “She didn't tell you what the meeting was about?”

 

“Afraid not. It is largely the reason I am standing here trying very hard to find a reason not to go in.” He shook his head. “Though I suppose that is not the way, I must face my fears, right?

 

She'd smiled at him warmly and leaned in, pecking his cheek. “Brave Cassie, you always did play the knight didn't you?”

 

He chuckled, “Once or twice my love, I have been the damsel in distress.”

 

She had laughed prettily before saying goodbye and walked away on sinfully tall heels, her lovely royal blue suit bringing out the pale milky tone of her skin and the rich oxblood of her hair.

 

Castiel had given himself a firm mental shake, smoothed a hand over his carefully side-parted hair and put one foot in front of the other, until he found himself in the parlor of Naomi's office.  
  


He greeted her secretary Ian, and asked him to inform her that he had arrived for their meeting.

 

Several minutes later she appeared in the doorway, her smart grey pant-suit functional yet stylish. She smiled in his direction, and had asked him politely to follow her in.

 

Despite the old-world exterior of the brownstone, Naomi's office was quite modern. There furniture in general was made of glass and chrome, with opaque glass panels on three of the four walls. She gestured to a chair in front of the desk and he sat, feeling apprehensive.

 

Why was he here?

 

She sat as well, folding her hands together on the surface of the immaculately clean desk. How did she manage to keep it from smudging with fingerprints or dirt? Castiel was forever scrubbing inks from his hands as he worked in the Council Library.

 

“I would imagine you are wondering why you are here Castiel.”

 

He had made eye contact and nodded briefly. He was certainly curious.

 

“The Council has recently been made aware of a young hunter in the Midwest United States in dire need of a Watcher. The board has decided that you would be an appropriate match to work with this young man. He will be incredibly important in the coming years, and we must act now to ensure that he will be loyal to our cause.”

 

Castiel's curiosity grew tenfold at the last, but he was still stuck on the middle bit.

 

“Me? The council wishes to send...me?”

 

Her smile was warm this time around. “Yes, Castiel. You have worked so hard these last years, we have seen you transform from a willful young Watcher in training and into a dedicated, knowledgeable, valuable member of our organization. We have decdided that with this assignment, you will once again take on the responsibility of having a hunter in your charge. What do you think Castiel?”

 

Frankly, he was more than interested. He had truly loved the vast Council Library, but his hands frequently itched to take up a weapon and use his body to bring down some supernatural bugger.

 

“I would very much like to take this opportunity to prove to you, and to the board, that this is a challenge I will gladly take.”

 

“Wonderful. Dean Winchester will certainly be a worthy challenge for you Castiel. He reminds me very much of you all those years ago. He will need a strong hand to guide him, and the will of someone who will not bend when he pushes.”

 

Castiel wanted this. He did. This Dean Winchester would be nothing like Samandriel had been.

 

 _No_. He wouldn't think of Samandriel now. Not when he had a bright new opportunity in front of him. He would not make the mistakes he had made with his first young charge with Dean. He'd pushed the thoughts away.

 

“If you do not have any questions Castiel, I would like to discuss with you the various components of your assignment.”

 

Castiel gestured for her to continue.

 

“The Council will arrange for you to take a faculty position at a small high school in Sioux Falls South Dakota. The position will be that of librarian, seeing as you currently have the qualifications for the job. Dean Winchester will be attending the school, and you will be expected to both complete the requirements of your faculty position, whatever they may be, as well as keeping a close eye upon our young hunter. Are these terms agreeable?”

 

Castiel was intrigued. He had heard of a few hunters that had warranted such careful consideration. Most or all of them were all featured in one fashion or another in one or more of the prophecies that the Council translated and monitored closely. Interesting. He wondered if this Dean was one of them.

 

“I find the terms very agreeable, Naomi.” Castiel smiled, his mind still contemplating his new charge.

 

-

 

One week later, Castiel was nearly finished packing up his small flat. He would be taking most of his belongings, but Balthazar had been good enough to take over the lease, so that he would not have to concern himself with selling off furniture or putting it into storage.

 

Balthazar had walked into Castiel's tiny kitchen from the living room, a wicked grin on his face. Castiel had his slender frame leaned against one of the counters, sipping at a mug of hot tea and contemplating life so far from where he had lived most of his life.

 

“So Cassie, what will you do with yourself so far from the motherland? Will you finally untwist your knickers and have some fun again?” He sighed. “We used to have such fun, darling. Then you went and had your brain washed and jewels clipped by Naomi.”

 

Castiel laughed at Balthazar's pout.

 

“I do not think I will find much fun in the Midwest. At least not fun I can find in public. I've heard that men of my...persuasion, are not received well in that region.” He shook his head. “No, darling. I think I will be quite involved with working with the young Mr. Winchester. Naomi did not paint an endearing picture of the lad.”

 

Balthazar's eyes gleamed with mischief. “It's so unfortunate that they couldn't send you a picture of the mysterious Dean. He sounds deliciously willful. A man could have some fun with _that_.”

 

Castiel huffed. “None of that Balth. I have had my fill of beautiful, willful lads in my bed. It doesn't matter what he looks like, that line will not be crossed this time.”

 

Three weeks later, Castiel was standing in the library of the Sioux Falls High School, losing patience already with Dean Winchester.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "i knew you were trouble when you walked in..."

Dean’s focus swam back to the present as a shrill bell sounded and students began swarming the halls like ants in an ant farm. He hung by the wall, out of the current of bodies, and glanced down again at the papers in his hand. He rifled through the stack and found a map of the building. He held it up in front of his face and frowned. He tilted his head to the side, turned the map a different direction. It hadn’t helped. The copy of the map was terrible.

 

He picked a direction at random and started walking down the hallway only to turn around and walk back the other way. He wandered up and down a few halls, and always ended up back in the one he’d started in.

 

As he passed the office for the third time he noticed a little blonde hanging over Ellen’s desk, chattering away with the secretary. Dean noticed with a vague appreciation the way her jeans were curve- hugging and low slung. She had on a tight, vintage-looking REO Speedwagon t-shirt underneath a faded denim jacket. Her hair was loose and hanging in gentle waves to the middle of her back. As if she had sensed his eyes on her, she looked over her shoulder at him and grinned. He returned the smile, throwing a wink her way.

 

Jo was in heaven. There was a boy standing outside the office where she had stopped to talk to her mom on her way to her next class. There was a boy, and _boy_ was he just edible. She felt his eyes on her and she made eye contact. “Oh my God, mother. Do you see this kid?”

 

Ellen peeked over her daughter’s shoulder and saw Dean standing outside the office looking like he was struggling to decipher the map in his hands. “That would be Dean, Jo. He’s new.” She raised an eyebrow at the excited squeal her daughter let out. “Why don’t you go help him find his way?”

 

Jo gave her mother a wide grin and headed for the door. Right before it opened she heard her mother’s exasperated sigh. “And _try_ not to terrify the boy? He sure looks like a charmer, but girl, you run too hot and too fast for a good guy to catch a good look at ya.” She rolled her eyes and threw the door open.

 

The door in front of Dean opened with a bang, and he looked up from the sound to find the blonde standing there. She leaned in and put a hand on his arm, glancing down at the map in his hands.

 

“Can I have you?” She drawled.

 

Dean grinned and cocked an eyebrow.

 

“Help you! I meant can I _help_ you?” she giggled “I mean you look lost, you lost? Mom said you might be lost.”

 

Dean just stared then. “Mom?”

 

“Oh!” She held out a hand “Jo Harvelle, at your service Dean Winchester.”  
  
He took her hand with a laugh, surprised to feel some soft almost-calluses, her nails not done up like the chicks usually did. He knew hands like those; those were hands that knew their way around the insides of an engine. He liked her just that much more for that.  
  


“Ahh I see, Ellen is your mom. Cool, I met her this morning. And yea,” He motioned at the map. “I don’t know where I’m going here.” He grinned at her finally…hoping he was being charming again.

 

Holy Baby Jesus. Jo’s knees felt weak with that bright smile aimed her way. His amazing green eyes crinkled up with it, and she knew she was in love.

 

“Oh-kayyy.” She huffed out a breath. “Where ya headed big boy?” and she loved the sound of his laugh.

 

“I’ve got Computer Science next.” He winced slightly at her excited squeal.

 

“No way! Me, too! Me ‘n’ Charlie made sure we were in it together. Charlie, that’s my best friend since we were in pigtails, she is awesome at that geek stuff and I’m better with cars than computers, so I figured why not have an inside man?”

 

They were walking and Dean was listening to her chatter about nothing. Finally he heard her say his name and he started paying attention.

 

He was kind of an odd duck, Jo decided. Hotter than should be legal, but he was quiet, reserved. She could tell that the charm and the grinning was a mask for this face he was showing now, thoughtful, distracted. It didn’t make her like him any less, hell, if anything it made him more interesting, and made her all the more curious.

 

“So stranger, what’s your story?” She asked casually. “Tell me everything, the darker the better.”

 

She was grinning, in good humor, but he just shook his head with a laugh.

 

“Jeez Jo, what’s with the third degree?”

 

She grabbed onto his arm and stood in front of him. “Oh, trust me Winchester. I _will_ find out absolutely everything there is to know about you. And, if you won’t tell me, then I’ll have no choice but to get Charlie to look you up, her way.” Her grin was michevious and she lowered her voice for the last part, “She’s a hacker you know, can dig up allll kinds of dirt.”

 

What?! No, Jesus, he did _not_ want anyone digging into him. There was enough out there already, he didn’t like the idea that someone might have the power to find something to hold over his head again. He started to panic, his hands sweating, breathing shallowly.

Her smile faded as she saw Dean’s face pale. Oh _man_. Now she definitely wanted to know his story. She waved her hand in front of his face and he snapped out of his anxiety.

 

“Look man, I was just kidding. Any secrets you got are safe with me, promise.” She smiled up at him and he returned it weakly. “Lets head in, you can meet my girl Charlie.”

 

She tugged on his hand and he followed her inside the computer lab.

 

Charlie turned out to be a quirky redhead in bright green corduroy pants, topped with a blue Dr. Who tee and a grey cardigan. Dean noticed a Gryffindor crest pinned to her lapel and grinned. Her eyes had sparkled behind her black framed glasses when Jo had flopped down in her lap and said “Hey cutie.”

 

Once introductions were made, she had seemed just as curious about him as Jo, but to his surprise, he kept noticing her gazing at Jo, hands maybe lingering too long when she put one on her arm, or knee, while talking. Oh, man. He chuckled internally, she was freaking in love with Jo, and the feisty little blonde was _so_ oblivious.

 

They had ended up in most of the same classes for the rest of the morning, and a few other faces kept showing up, too.

 

A little after noon found Dean, Charlie and Jo sitting outside at a table eating lunch. Over the course of the morning, they had found things in common and had forged a comfortable start to a friendship. He and Jo debated classic cars (Dean would _always_ pick the Impala, Jo favored the Challenger.) Charlie and Jo shared with Dean their mutual love for the Star Wars movies. Dean and Charlie had talked seriously about some of their favorite authors. (Charlie was a Carver Edlund fan, Dean favored Vonnegut.)

 

Deep into their current discussion about how much they all hated Twilight, one of the girls that Dean had seen in some of his classes, stalked over to him.

 

“I don’t mean to interrupt your downward mobility, but I just wanted to inform you that should you choose to make friends with more appropriate people for someone with your kind of face, ditch these losers and find me and mine at Purgatory, tonight.”

 

Without another word, she turned in a blur of black hair and burgundy leather, and sauntered back to her friends across the quad.

 

Charlie made claws with her hands and hissed at her back while Dean laughed, getting over his stunned reaction quickly.

 

“What the hell was that?” Dean said, still laughing.

 

“Demon bitch. Goes by the name of Meg.” She had said it so straight faced, that Dean almost considered she meant an _actual_ demon, but then she broke, giggling even as she was trying to scowl.

“So is either of you gonna tell me what Purgatory is?”

 

Charlie was tapping away on her phone and she waffled a hand in the air dismissively. “It’s the local club here in town, but really, we don’t have much town or things to do. Purgatory is pretty much the only thing going for us around here by way of fun.”

 

Jo was looking at Dean closely. What had he thought of Meg?

 

“So, you gonna go Dean?” she asked, far too casually.

 

He shrugged. “I might.” It seemed like it could be an ok place, but he so wouldn’t be going to meet that Meg chick. Yipes. That one looked like she might rip his nuts off if he said something wrong. Her band of followers didn’t look any cuddlier.

 

Jo huffed, but didn’t say anything else, deep in thought.

 

He finished his lunch and brushed crumbs from his hands and shirt. He glanced at his watch, seeing that he had just enough time to run to the library and get his books without making too much small talk if he met the Watcher.

 

“Hey, I need to go to the library to get my books. I’ll catch up with you chicks later.”

 

He tossed a wave behind him as he walked. So, he had made some friends, he thought. He didn’t have a problem with having chick friends, but the familiar ritual of eating lunch together and talking made him miss Gabe. He had always eaten the worst kind of crap. Dean could almost smell a warm waft of chocolate around him as he made his way to the C. Shurley Memorial Library.

 

He paused in front of the double doors and took a deep breath. Now or never, Dean.

 

Given the choice, Dean would definitely pick never.

 

The library was pretty much a library; lots of shelves and wooden railing. There were tables scattered around and one big table that sat in the center of a semi-circle of low shelves. There was a short set of stairs up to a second level with even more free standing shelves.

 

Dean ran his hand along the long, slick walnut reference desk until his fingers touched a little brass bell sitting next to the computer. He tapped his fingers on it a few times, waiting for an answer.

 

“Just a minute.” a barely discernable voice called out from the office.

 

He tapped again, harder this time. “Hello?”

 

A man then wandered out from the small office behind the counter, reading a book as he walked. He appeared to be around six foot and slender, and Dean took his time in appreciating the trim, sharp hips wrapped in grey slacks. His eyes slid upward and nearly drooled over the man’s crisp blue shirt covered at the chest by a darker grey tweed waistcoat. There was a black tie tucked into the front of the vest, the solid color shot through with a nearly invisible midnight blue paisley. The man had silky looking black hair, parted neatly on the left side, and his eyes were still focused on what he was reading, long fingered hands gracefully propping the book open.

 

Whoa. This guy couldn’t be a librarian, way too young and _way_ too hot.

 

He heard a throat clear delicately, as delicate as gravel could sound.

 

He looked up at the man’s face, blushing when he realized he’d been staring. And then he saw the eyes, the face looking back at him.

 

Jesus…this was just not fair. The man squinted clear, deep blue eyes enhanced by a pair of frameless glasses at him as he reached up and plucked a pen from between his lips.

 

“Wha?” Dean asked dumbly. Had the man asked him a question?

 

Castiel’s glance had taken in the boy in front of him quickly, trying to squash down the hot stab of instant desire. In the brief once over he had allowed himself, he took note of finely muscled forearms exposed by the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, slim hips and thighs that bowed temptingly. On the look back up to his face he saw plush pink lips, finger tousled sandy brown hair, and finally gem-bright green eyes staring somewhere around Castiel’s chest.

 

“May I help you, I said. You were quite persistent with the bell.”

 

Dean just about caught on fire at the sound of the voice. It was rocks on concrete, almost a smoker’s deep rumble, the sound seemed almost painful, but he had heard the accent too. British? Could this be his Watcher? Holy shit. He was _so_ on board with Watchers if this guy was one.

 

Castiel raised a brow and laid down his book. He hadn’t seen this one around in the day’s before school had started, when the students came to the library to check out their books. Was this Dean? Balthazar’s head would explode if it was, the boy was stunning.

 

“Oh. Uh. Yeah.” Dean stuttered, “I need some, uh…”

 

“Books?” Castiel supplied.

 

Dean was so stupid. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “Yeah, textbooks. I’m new and I guess you need books if you want to pass classes and stuff.” He threw a grin on his face.

 

He got two deep blue eyes staring back at him.

 

New, he’d said. He was new. So, this _was_ Dean Winchester.

 

He was so fucked.

 

\---

 

Dean’s grin faltered as the man kept staring.

 

“Uh…so, can you hook me up with those books?”

 

Castiel plucked his glasses off of his face and a silky blue handkerchief from his back pocket. He rubbed at spotless lenses and valiantly attempted to win back his composure.

 

He looked at Dean with what he hoped was a cool, steady look as he slipped the glasses back on. “I am the librarian here, so I believe I will be able to “hook you up,” as you so eloquently phrased it, with the textbooks that you require.”

 

Ok then…so this _was_ the Watcher. _His_ Watcher. This guy with the face and the personification of everything Dean had ever fantasized about talked like a freaking walking dictionary.

 

Awesome. Dean rolled his eyes.

 

He gave the man one more look, from head to toe.

 

“So, you’re my Watcher?” Dean tried to sound uninterested.

 

Castiel nodded. “If you are Dean Winchester, then yes, that would be correct.”

 

He held out his hand to Dean and waited. Green eyes locked onto his and held as he reached out to shake his hand.

 

Dean felt a soft, slightly moist palm that belonged to a wide hand and squeezed as the man introduced himself.

 

“Dean, my name is Mr. Novak, Castiel Novak. I would prefer that you call me Mr. Novak, but if you must, Castiel will suffice.” There…that was professional, aloof. Right?

 

A slow, mischievous grin spread over Dean’s lips.

 

“Alright. Guess we’re stuck with each other now, Cas.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120310080225/buffy/images/b/b5/Wesleypompous.png
> 
> visual inspiration for Cas, only slap a black tie and a vest on him instead of the jacket and red tie.
> 
> also this: http://heisawinchester.tumblr.com/post/56999562185/abaddonaomi-misha-collins-liberty-heights  
> many thanks to PoisonousDame for the link!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what happens when an irrisistable force meets an immovable object. aka Dean is a brat and Cas is unamused.

Ten minutes later Dean was walking out of the library, a thick stack of battered textbooks in his arms.  
  
  
Oh yeah...and friggin orders. Already.  
  
  
After that first look at his Watcher, things had gotten decidedly less fun, in a hurry. The dude talked like a computer and he had wanted Dean to get with the program right away.  
  
  
"Mr. Winchester, I am aware that you are responsible for getting your younger brother to and from school each day, is that correct?"   
  
  
"Yeah, I drop Sammy off at 7:30 and pick him up at 4:30. Typically that's our schedule, but he might decide to do some different extra curriculars here. Why?"  
  
  
“I ask, Dean, because I will expect you to commit to a regular schedule of training, patrolling, and study, and those commitments take time. I wish to find out what will work for both of us, as I do have other duties here as librarian, so neither is left waiting. I expect promptness at all times, I do not enjoy wasted time."  
  
  
Dean had groaned. Jesus, already? It was literally day one of his life at a new school, and he was expected to just...what? Sit and Roll over? Beg for a treat?  
  
  
Besides....now that he knew that there were rules that begged to be broken, he definitely wanted to go check out that club tonight and have a little fun.  
  
  
"Aww c'mon Cas." Dean grinned when the man frowned at the unwanted nickname. "That pretty much sounds like I'm not gonna get any free time to do fun stuff."  
  
–  
Castiel fixed him with a stern look. Reminded himself that this was a mere taste of the willfulness and charming attempts at manipulation that was Dean Winchester. He would not be swayed, and he fully intended to be obeyed.  
  
  
"Dean, you cannot charm me. I am your Watcher. You should show me some respect."  
  
  
The way that Dean pushed out his lower lip in a pretty pout was very charming...No, no it was not. It was insolence. A challenge.  
  
  
Castiel's frown deepened.   
  
  
"You will attend your classes for the day, and return to the library promptly at three o'clock. From three until four fifteen you will be expected to begin your studies, as I will assume the bulk of your "training" was of the physical kind. As a hunter working together with the support of the Watcher's Council, you must train not only your body, but your mind. Do you understand what I have asked of you, Dean?"  
  
\--  
Dean checked his watch, he needed to book it if he was going to make it to his next class on time. Rolling his eyes at the Watcher he hopped off of the table he had perched on and began heading for the door.   
  
  
"Mr. Winchester. I asked you a question. Answer."  
  
  
"Yeah, yeah Cas. I got it. All work and no play. See ya later."  
  
  
Castiel called out as Dean swung through the doors. "Three o'clock Mr. Winchester, sharp."  
  
  
Dean had laughed. Oh this would be fun.  
  
  
\---  
  
 

At two fifty-five Dean was sitting on the front steps of the school, his eyes distant as thoughts and images wove through his brain about a precisely Windsor-knotted blue-black tie wrapped around his hand as lips slick from heated kisses sucked bruises into his neck, a crisp British voice demanding that he...

 

He was broken out of his daze when someone dropped a backpack at his feet. He whipped his head up and found himself glaring at Jo and Charlie, who were looking down at him with twin curious looks.

 

Jo cocked an eyebrow. “Now _what_   were you just thinking about Winchester? It sure looked good from here.”

 

Dean blushed hotly, shoving the images away again. He ventured, “Uhh...nothing?”

 

\--

Jo rolled her eyes and dropped down to the step below him, pulling a cold can of Coke and an apple out of her bag and let it go for now. She really didn't want to know if it was rather a _someone_ he was thinking about.

 

\--

Charlie sat down next to Dean, her arms wrapping around her raised knees. She sighed to herself. Why was Jo so stupidly oblivious to her? They'd been best friends for almost literally forever, and Charlie had been in love with her pretty much since they'd been in middle school. But Jo chased boys, so very many boys. She never seemed very picky about it either, much to Charlie's dismay.

 

She rooted around in her messenger bag and found a candy bar, pulling it out. Jo tapped her shin, offering to swap her the apple for the candy. She pushed aside old, familiar feelings of longing as she accepted the fruit and turned to focus on their new friend. Dean was so much like Jo, flirty and just crude enough to be endearing, but she couldn't figure out some of the vibes coming off of him. She had noticed that he would always scan a room when entering, sit away from the door with the entrance in sight, and he would occasionally tense and reach for his bag unconsciously. Her fingertips were itching to Google the dude, Charlie could do more things in a few minutes with a web browser than most people could do in months and she wanted to find out what his story was.

 

\--

The minutes passed companionably as they chatted about how the rest of each of their days had gone. Dean told the girls about his French class that he really didn't like and Jo suggested that he check out the school's Auto Shop class that she was in, see if he could switch anything. Charlie complained about the gym class both she and Jo had and how much she hated it as the three of them passed around Jo's soda.

 

Charlie nudged Dean's side with an elbow while Jo was busy playing a game on her phone. “So how'd it go getting your books earlier? Did you find your way ok?”

 

The question had been innocent, but Dean's brain instantly flashed back to one of his earlier day dreams of long-fingered pale hands gripping the backs of his thighs as they lifted him up against a bookshelf, legs spreading as a firm body pushed between them. “Oh, uh. Yeah, all good. Got to meet the librarian. He's kinda....”  
  


“Totally lickable?” Jo blurted out with a giggle.

 

Dean's cheeks heated at the thought but he laughed and continued, “Kinda weird. Dude talks like a machine.”

 

Charlie mused, “I dunno, I kinda like him. He seems all stuffy and repressed, but I think he's got a wild side hidden deep down under all that tweed. The guy's a little technophobic though. When I helped him set up some new software for the library a few weeks ago, I'm pretty sure he referred to the computer as “that dread machine,”” Charlie laughed.

 

Dean looked down to check his watch when Jo piped up. “Oh hey Dean? Charlie and I were gonna head down to the Roadhouse and hang out for a bit. It's an internet cafe slash restaurant that most of the kids hang out at. Wanna come with?

 

He would definitely like to go, but it was pushing 3:30, and he should probably go make an appearance in the library. He wondered if the prim Watcher was throwing a fit yet. Dean grinned at the thought of making the carefully put-toghether guy squirm.

 

“Nah, I gotta go pick up my baby brother, Sam, from the middle school at 4:30 and I was just gonna hang around here, maybe check out a book from the library. You chicks go ahead, I'll take a rain check though.” he winked at Jo's pout as he stood, stretching out.

 

Jo and Charlie packed up and Dean waved as they took off down the sidewalk. He huffed out a sigh. Time to go. He wanted to see the Watcher's face when he walked in purposely late.

 

–-

It was a quarter after three and Dean Winchester was not here. Castiel wondered if he had actually expected the boy to arrive on time. Regardless, he was irritated. Tightly wound up and now irritated. Castiel had spent the two hours following Dean's appearance mindlessly reshelving books and thinking about Dean Winchester engaged in various lust-inducing activities. He would likely have to go back and double check that he had put the volumes back in the proper places.

 

Thinking about the extra work he may have given himself because he'd foolishly allowed his mind to wander into forbidden territory only irritated him further. His control was better than this, damn it.

 

But the thoughts and images still crept in unbidden. The undisciplined hunter was late and Castiel's fingers tingled as his mind flashed on an image of his hand in the boy's spiky hair, gripping tightly against his scalp as he pushed him to his knees in front of him.

 

Castiel shook himself out of his fever dream and moved to gather the items that Dean would need for his study session, should he decide to grace the library with his prescence. Dean was pushing him, testing the new source of authority in his life, poking and prodding to find weaknesses. Naomi had warned Castiel that Dean would be intent on doing whatever he could to bend Castiel to his willfulness, break him if he could, try to send him running back for London's foggy streets. Castiel may be suffering from an inordinate amount of lust for the green eyed hunter, but what Dean did not know yet is that he was not the type to break easily, not any longer.

 

–

Dean swaggered into the library, a smug, challenging smirk on his lips. He was fully prepared to face off in a battle of wills with a pissy ultra-straightlaced Watcher, but what he got was a seemingly empty library. Had the man had enough of waiting and left? Was he giving up on Dean already? Had he pushed too far?

 

He shrugged as he kept walking in toward the big central table. He spied a small stack of books, a handsome black leather-bound journal, and an assortment of pens, pencils and highlighters. A folded sheet of crisp white stationary was propped on the top of the books.

 

“ _Dean, as it appears that you wish to waste my time this afternoon, no doubt in an effort to prove to me that you will not be ordered about, I shall be in my office. Please, if you will, report to me when you have arrived. C. Novak”_

 

–

Castiel heard the double doors of his domain swing open with a soft creak and booted footsteps against the floor. Several minutes later he could hear a soft thudding sound he assumed was Dean setting his things down on the table. He kept his eyes on his work as he heard a soft knock on his door. “Come in please, Dean.”

 

Castiel continued writing in the new red leather-bound Watcher's journal spread out before him on the desk. He heard a shuffle of feet and the rustle of clothing as the door opened and Dean moved into the room.

 

–

Dean stood there watching graceful fingers writing fluidly on creamy white pages. Cas was still facing away from the door and hadn't acknowledged him beyond his entreaty to come into the office. He glanced around the small, cozy room. The walls were a butter yellow, hung here and there with what looked to Dean like wistful, English landscapes. He noticed a tribal mask angry-grinning down at him from the wall. The Watcher seemed to have his own private library in his office as well, books meticulously arranged on rich, dark wooded bookshelves. A cup of tea sat near the edge of the desk.

 

He shifted from one foot to the other, the silence uncomfortable. “I'm uh...sorry I'm late. Got caught up with...”

 

He was cut off by the Watcher's curt reply. “I'm not sure that I am interested in hearing your excuse for why you were late Dean. The only thing you have accomplished with this show of attempting to exert control is that you have wasted both of our times. I would have very much liked to sit down with you and discuss what I would like to see happen here, get to know each other politely and hopefully develop a comfortable rapport. As such, you were late, and I'm afraid your studies cannot wait for niceties.”

 

–

Dean had been ready to be shouted at, to hear threats of leaving if Dean didn't behave. Not this cold disapproval. Dean could fight a lot of things, but you couldn't fight someone who didn't let you. He was left feeling off balance, like he was unsure of his footing with this man.

 

“As I am sure you've noticed, there are several volumes laid out for you. You will begin your studies with some functional Latin, specifically as it pertains to exorcising demons. There are also a few texts that explore demon castes, characteristics and weaknesses. Please work until 4:15 and then you will be dismissed.”

 

Blue eyes bored into his as Castiel swiveled in his simple desk chair to face him.

 

“And Dean, I suggest that you not be late again. My patience is not endless, but you will find that I rarely waver. I would prefer that we work _together_ and not against one another. Do you understand?”

 

Dean nodded, lowering his eyes to the scuffed toes of his boots. He felt a little stupid now. He'd underestimated the Watcher. He could almost hear the challenge that he was laying down “Mess with me and see how much you like it then,” in his head.

 

Castiel turned back to his desk without another word.

 

Dean slunk his way back to the table and opened _A Treatise on Demons and Demonology._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> new characters, angst, and cas gets just a *teeeeny* bit possessive :D

 

Later that night Dean was at home, rummaging through his meager wardrobe to find something to wear. He wasn't sure what kind of club Purgatory was supposed to be, but he still wanted to look good. Never know who could show up.

 

As he sat down on the bed contemplating his options, he thought back to his afternoon in the library.

 

He had read and scrawled notes about exorcisms and demons until 4:20. Maybe he was trying to make up for being late, but the stuff Cas had given him to study was actually pretty cool. The Watcher had not come out of the office once to check to see if he was goofing off instead of working, and he hadn't come out to dismiss him at 4:15 either.

 

Dean had packed up and gotten ready to go get Sammy. He left the books on the table but tucked the journal into his bag carefully. Had Cas bought it for him? Was it a Hunter's Journal, like the one his dad had had? He had seen Cas writing in a matching red one earlier. Did Watchers have journals too? Dean wondered what Cas had been writing about. He really hoped it wasn't cold appraisal, detailing how much of a disappointment Dean had been so far.

 

Pushing the thoughts away he'd walked toward the office door, stopping just outside of it. Should he let Cas know he was leaving now? He leaned his forehead against the cool surface and sighed.

He hurried out to the Impala and cranked it up, running late to pick up Sam. Jesus, did he have a theme today or what?

 

Sam was standing with a teacher out in front of the middle school when Dean pulled up. He waved goodbye to the teacher and ran to the car, hopping in. As soon as his butt hit the seat his mouth had opened and he'd started talking a mile a minute.

 

After Dean had heard about Sammy's _entire_ day, from how his new English teacher had praised him when he'd shared with the class the books he'd read that summer, to how he had stopped some older kids from throwing chicken nuggets at a boy named Brady at lunch, and the girl he had met, Jess, when he'd tried to open her locker, thinking that it was his. When he'd gotten through his report, Sam turned in his seat and asked Dean about his day.

 

“So how was it? Were your classes cool? Did you meet anyone? Did you...Did you meet your Watcher?”

 

Dean flicked his eyes to his brother and then back to the road, thinking back over his day. “Yeah, I guess it was ok. The principal was a jerk though. I had some good classes, gonna look into switching my French class with Auto Shop though. Oh yeah, and I met these two pretty cool chicks named Jo and Charlie. Jo is pretty cute, and she freaking loves classic rock and working on cars. Charlie is a self-proclaimed Geek and I'm pretty sure she's in love with Jo.” Dean laughed thinking about them. They were going to be good friends, he could tell. As long as they didn't get mixed up with his other life and get hurt, that is.

 

Sam looked at him. “And who else did you meet?” he asked pointedly.

 

“Alright, yeah. I met him.”

 

“And?” Sam looked at him expectantly.

 

“Uh, well, his name is Castiel Novak...annnd he's pretty much a giant nerdy pain in the ass.” He grinned. “You'd like him Sammy.” Dean dodged a punch to his shoulder. “He's basically gonna try to put me on a leash. Gave me all sorts of orders today. Oh yeah, and he's probably planning out the next five years of my life down to the minute.” Dean rolled his eyes.

 

Sam was frowning, his face pulled into what Dean called his “bitchface”. “Well you know Dean, I'm pretty sure that's what Watchers are supposed to do. Though someone should probably warn him you suck at following orders, unless they came from dad.” Sam glanced at him quick, as if he hoped he hadn't pissed him off.

 

“So did you get to do any training today?” Sam asked, trying to lighten the mood.

 

“Ugh, no. He made me study.”

 

Sam grinned at him. “What'd ya study?”

 

“Demons, actually.”

 

Sam looked impressed. “Wow, that's pretty cool. Learn anything neat?”

“Yeah I did. There was this book that had all the different kinds of demons in there. There's demons with red eyes who make deals with people, demons with black eyes, which are the ones we usually run into on hunts, and...” Dean paused, not sure he wanted to tell Sammy what else he'd learned.

 

“What, Dean?” Sam asked.

 

“Uh well, I actually found some information about the kind of demon that killed mom and dad. It's a yellow-eyed demon, which we knew, but this kind of demon is actually like a kind of a General demon, leads other demons.”

 

Sammy's eyes were wide as he took in the information.

 

“But guess what else I learned today? Guess, Sammy.” Dean was excited about this next part.

 

“Ok, what else did you learn today Dean?” Sam sounded curious.

 

“I learned how to get rid of the evil sons of bitches. I learned how to exorcise them. Send them fuckers right back to hell.”

 

Sam gaped. Dean laughed and reached out, pushing Sam's mouth closed with a finger under his chin. “Gonna catch flies that way Sammy.”

 

\- -

Dean was itching to try out the exorcism incantation he had read about. He'd written the Latin words down carefully in the black journal, so that he could try to memorize it. He shoved his legs into dark blue jeans, a white t-shirt and an olive green polo on top. He slipped the golden idol amulet that Sammy had given him when they were kids around his neck and shrugged into his dad's leather jacket.

 

Stuffing his feet into his boots, he headed down the stairs, the old boards groaning slightly under his weight. He passed by Bobby's den and poked his head in.

 

“Hey Bobby, I'm goin' out for a little bit, gonna check out a club. I won't be out too late.”

 

Bobby waved him over. “Don't run off just yet, I wanna know more about this Watcher of yours. Sam told me what you told him. He a good guy?”

 

“Yeah, I think he is. He's just...way more like Sam is in the worst ways than I ever will be. I'm kinda worried he thinks I'm an idiot or something.” Dean looked out the window as he said it. He and Bobby didn't really do the whole “feelings” thing.

 

“Well, you are an idjit, just not in the way you're thinkin. Lemme guess, he pushed and you just had to push right back?”

 

Dean flushed. Toed the carpet.

 

Bobby laughed. “Yeah, that's what I thought. Boy, you know he's there to help you, not ruin your life. Sam told me he had you reading about demons and exorcisms today.”

 

Dean looked at him, nodded.

 

“You think that was a coincidence? He knows about you Dean. Knows about your family. I bet the demon info was his olive branch.”

 

Dean hadn't even thought of it. If that was the case...man he was an ass. Trying to get rid of the guy and he not only doesn't run, but offers Dean something he'd always wanted?

 

Son of a bitch.

 

Bobby motioned him toward the door then. “Alright, get the hell out of here and go have some fun. But...”

 

“Yeah, Bobby. No drinking, no hunting unless I call you first. Got it.” Dean grinned.

 

Bobby frowned slightly but nodded. “Be careful, son.”

 

\- - -

Dean left his Baby parked a few blocks up the street from Purgatory. He did not want any drunks plowing into it after they'd had a few too many. As he walked down the sidewalk toward the unassuming warehouse-looking club, his eyes were trained to pick up any creepy crawlies doing dirty deeds in the alleys that he passed. He had his knife tucked down the back of his pants and a plastic baggie of salt in his pocket.

 

He got in a short line and when he got up to the door he paid the cover before slipping inside. It was still kind of early in the evening, and there was a band up on the stage playing some kinda indie rock. He rolled his eyes. Gimme a little Def Leppard or Warrant any day. He swept the large club with his eyes as he made his way deeper into the crowd.

 

He was crossing in front of the main dance floor, aiming for one of the cluster of seating areas in the back when a hand grabbed onto his bicep. His hand immediately reached for his knife, but slid away as he turned to find Meg attached to his arm with sharp red-tipped fingers digging in. She had a predatory smirk on her face as she leaned her body in to press her breasts up against his arm.

 

“You came.” She breathed into his ear. Damn, this chick moved fucking fast. She didn't even know his name for Christ's sake. She grinned. “Good,” her other hand slid to his chest and fisted in his shirt. “Let's go introduce you to some people worth being seen with.”

 

She led him by the front of his shirt to a table, and he was helpless to stop her unless he was willing to hurt her, and he was pretty sure she didn't deserve that. Yet.

 

There was a mixed group of bored looking people seated around the table. Meg began the introductions with an olive-skinned girl with her dark hair in a braid down the side of her face. Andrea was looking around the club, with an almost hungry look on her face. Meg was telling Dean about how Andrea and her brother Benny had just moved to Sioux Falls last spring, their old man had been involved in some kind of shipping. Dean gave Benny a once over. The guy didn't seem like he wanted to be there really, but Dean appreciated the way his husky body filled out the black wool jacket he was wearing, and the impressive facial hair he was sporting. Next up was an African American guy named...well, Guy. He gave Dean a smirk. The last person at the table held out a dainty hand and introduced herself before Meg could speak. “Hello, I'm Lillith, but some people call me Lil.” The blonde gave him a wide toothy smile. “Meg never said who you were, though.”

 

Dean shook the hand awkwardly, kind of thrown off by Lillith. She had sultry good looks, but she was dressed almost like a little girl would be. She was wearing a white sundress with a pink cardigan over it. She even had on kitten-heeled Mary Jane's. She didn't look like she fit in with this group at all.

 

“I'm uh, Dean. Dean Winchester. I just moved here from Kansas a couple months ago.”

 

Lillith smiled at him and nodded as she sat. “Well, I truly hope that you will find a home here, Dean. My father is the mayor of Sioux Falls, and he is always interested to know how newcomers to our little town feel about it.”

 

Ah. Now he knew why she was in the group. It seemed like a group of people who's families were Big Deals or something.

 

Desperate to get away from them, he scanned the room again. He saw a flash of bright red hair over by the bar area and started to say some goodbyes. “Hey, this was great and all, good to meet you people, but I gotta head over...thataway....see ya.”

 

He didn't run. He walked. Quickly.

 

\- - -

Charlie was sitting on a cushy stool at the bar, playing with the straw piercing the cherry in her Shirley Temple.

 

She and Jo had left Dean at the school and had hurried off to the Roadhouse. They'd taken over their usual corner table and Charlie got out her laptop.

 

“Charlie. Puh-lease tell me you are gonna get Googlin'. I want to know everything we can find out about Dean, he is massively squirrely about something. I wanna know!” Jo was practically bouncing in her seat.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I'm gonna...but what if it's stuff he doesn't want anyone to know? I really like him, I don't want him to hate us after only knowing us for one day, Jo.” Charlie looked directly at her friend, wanting to know how far she was willing to go with this.

 

“If it's anything bad, well, we just don't tell him we know, right?” Jo wanted, no _needed_ to know about him. “Please? I'll love you forever baby.” Jo grinned at her friend.

 

So, they had Googled. When that turned up a couple of cryptic news articles from a Kansas newspaper, Charlie got ready to dig.

 

\- -

They sat, staring at one another.

 

Whoa.

 

Dean Winchester certainly had a past. Juvenille arrests for assault, shoplifting, truancy. A horribly dead father, about which the the article was incredibly vague about.

 

And then there was the thing that had knocked both girls back on their asses, each for different reasons.

 

Dean had been kicked out of his old school. For sexual harassment. Of another guy.

 

Jo was floored. No way. He couldn't be gay. He was so flirty and charming with the girls, and with Jo. Hadn't he been? Maybe it had been a joke gone wrong?

 

Charlie was floored as well, but her's was a kind of hopeful excitement. Obviously the charge of sexual harassment was a bad thing, especially on a school record, but there were a ton of ways that it could be interpreted. Especially if he was gay. Maybe he had hit on the wrong guy, and the guy had freaked out, gone to the school. Charlie knew how hard it could be to feel accepted. The few people she had told hadn't taken it well. And as far as wanting someone who was the wrong person, she could _so_ relate. She couldn't imagine how Jo would react if she openly hit on her.

 

How were they supposed to deal with this information? Jo went home, sulking, thinking deep thoughts.

 

Charlie had decided to go to Purgatory, see if Dean showed up. She was a horrible liar, she wouldn't be able to keep this a secret. So she'd fess up, and hope Dean wouldn't kill her.

 

\- - -

Dean tapped Charlie on the shoulder, and she jumped nearly off her seat with a yelp. He laughed at her reaction and helped her settle back in her chair before he took the one next to her.

 

“H-Hey Dean! How's it goin!?” She spoke loudly and about ten times too cheerfully. Was she hopped up on caffiene? Jo had said they were going to a cafe.

 

“Charlie, are you all sugared up on mochas or something?” Dean asked with a faux-serious tone.

 

And then, to his complete and utter surprise, she started crying.

 

Holy...What? What was going on?

 

He reached out for her arm, “Charlie, what? What's wrong?”

 

She looked up at him, a miserable, imploring look on her face. “Dean...I'm...I'm so sorry.” Her face crumpled again. “Please don't hate me.”

 

“Sorry for what, Charlie...What did you..?” Dean remember what Jo had said earlier. That Charlie could dig up anything on anyone. His face paled, his eyes wide. “No. No, Charlie....please tell me you didn't.”

 

“I'm sorry! We just wanted to know!”

 

We? “Oh God, Charlie...Jo knows too? Oh my God.” Dean dropped his face in his hands. He felt Charlies shaking fingers cover his.

 

“Dean, I think I can understand a little what might have happened. See, I'm gay too. I couldn't imagine....”

 

She was cut off by Dean's hand over her mouth. “No, Charlie, stop! I'm...I'm not gay ok....I...it was all a huge misunderstanding that got blown way out of proportion.” He was hyperventilating. This was freaking South Dakota....what Charlie had found out could ruin him. So he liked guys sometimes...he didn't need to have his life fucked up again because someone found that secret out. “Goddammit, Charlie. I need to get the hell out of here.”

 

He got up and ran full out for the door.

 

\- - -

In an office across town, Nick D'iavolo picked up the ringing telephone sitting on his massive mahogany desk.

 

“Mayor D'iavolo.” He drawled icily.

 

“Father, I believe a new hunter has come to town. Not the old man, but a boy, perhaps 17. Apparently he has just transferred to Sioux Falls from Kansas. His name is Dean Winchester.”

 

“Interesting....send someone to give him a little...test. Let us see if he is who I think he is.” he hung up without saying anything further. He sat at his desk, a small wicked smile curling his thin lips.

 

\- - -

 

Castiel was searching through the long, dark alleys around the club for his hunter. He had been standing along the railing on the second level of the club when he'd seen Dean come in. Of course he would be here. The boy would run headlong into danger without knowing what was waiting. Castiel had rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest and ended up watching the hunter interacting with a group of haughty looking teenagers, male and female (all attractive, Castiel  tried not to think) instead of focusing on his reason for being there.

 

He had called Naomi after Dean had left the school to report in about their encounters. He mostly left out how challenging Dean had been. He did not want Naomi to reconsider his being paired with the hunter. Obviously he left out how stupidly attracted he had been to him as well. As they were preparing to sign off Naomi gave him some information she wanted him to check out.

 

Apparently Sioux Falls was attracting more and more demon attention lately, and were occasionally using Purgatory for meeting and feeding grounds. Castiel was to canvass the club and report any demon activity he could see. He noticed a man guiding a young woman to a back room, and was about to follow them when he noticed Dean running out of the building, looking panicked. What on Earth?

 

Concern for his hunter led him out the same door a few minutes later, and he began trying to find Dean. The streets seemed empty, quiet. Too quiet.

 

Castiel crept down the wall of the next alley, carefully peeked the top of his head around the corner. What he saw had him barely holding back a growl.

 

The demon he had seen in the club was there with the girl, who was now also possessed by a demon. They had Dean pinned against the wall between them, and they took turns smashing fists into his face and his stomach. Castiel's body wanted to rush forward, to protect _his_ hunter. Instead he forced himself to run as quickly as he could for his car, tearing the leather bag out from the trunk and ran back, hoping he would not be too late.

 

\- -

Dean was livid. Not only had someone he had thought to be a friend (or at least a potential friend) had violated his privacy and nearly outed him in public, but there were two fucking demons holding him down.

 

He had lost his knife in the first rush of bodies, had sliced the male demon up the side of his face, but it hadn't stopped the onslaught of fists from coming. In his despair, he may have let the demons get more than a few hits in that he could have stopped, but he was screaming with pain emotionally and it needed to go away.

 

Before he could pass out from being beaten he remembered the exorcism incantation he had studied that afternoon. He opened his split lip and began chanting.

 

“Exorcizamus te...uh, omnis imm-immundus s-spirit-tus,” The demons howled and pounded into him harder. “Omnis s-satanica potes-potestas, o-omnis incursio infernalis a-a-adversarii,”

 

The demons flew back away from him and he tried with all his might to remember the rest. When he paused they turned toward him again with smug faces that he wanted to destroy.

 

Out of the darkness at the mouth of the alley, a deep, familiar voice continued the invocation.

 

“Omnis congregatio, et secta diabolica.” He nearly whimpered in relief as Cas stepped into the light.

 

“Ergo, draco maledicte. Ecclesiam tuam securi tibi facias libertate servire.” He spoke incredibly quickly and assuredly. It was amazing, the words mesmerizing rolling across his tongue. “Te rogamus...”

 

Dean remembered this part! He shouted, “Adios, bitches!”

 

\- -

Castiel spared a glance at the beautiful broken boy who had just shouted triumphantly. “Actually Mr. Winchester, the correct pronunciation would be,” and then he turned back to the demons who had run toward the only open exit and were panicking to discover themselves trapped by the line of salt he had laid. “Audi nos!”

 

The demons depossessed the bodies they had taken and roiling black smoke poured into the sky.

\- -

In a dark corner of the alley, Charlie stood shaking with fear. What had she just seen?

After Dean had taken off in a hurry, she had felt a huge stab of guilt and decided to run after him, to try to explain that she wasn't going to out him. She would never do that to someone. But when she had heard the sounds of fighting she had frozen. When Dean's voice rang out, speaking haltingly in what she was pretty sure was Latin she got curious enough to peek around the corner.

There were two people standing hunched over across from where Dean was slumped against the wall.  They straightened and Charlie had to bite her lips together to hold back the gasp. They had black eyes! What the hell!?

Even stranger still had been the rush of air that blew past her as someone went running forward, dumping what looked like salt in a line across the mouth of the alley. Wait...The person, man, stood then and walked into the alley, into the light as he spoke in the same language Dean had. It was Mr. Novak! What was a librarian doing here?!

When she saw the black eyed people run for the end of the alley she ran. She ran until she felt like her lungs had exploded.

What the hell was Dean Winchester?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the exorcism, i chose a short one, cause i wouldnt wanna have to remember a million lines of latin when my face was being beaten in. 
> 
> source: SPN wiki page.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> who's ready for some naughty times? 
> 
> also, it's official. i'm no longer in control of this, and i cannot stop.

 

The last thing Dean saw after the fight with the demons was Cas running toward him, a terrified look on his face. Then he passed out in a heap on the gritty floor of the alley.

\- -

He woke up to the feeling of being in a car, a speeding car. His body slid bonelessly against the door as the driver took a sharp left.

\- -

He felt warm hands on him. On his face, his neck and shoulders. He felt like he should have winced when they hesitated on the hem of his shirts, and then raised them before gentle fingertips ghosted over his abdomen.

\- -

He blinked up at a low ceiling, bathed in wavering golden light. “Gotta...need Bobby.”

\- - -

Castiel wasn't panicking. He really wasn't, but he had turned to smile at Dean after the demons had been exorcised to see him begin to slide down the wall, eyes rolling back into his head. He had rushed in, knelt at his side, eyes surveying the badly split lip and contusions bleeding into bruises all over his beautiful, foolish face.

He had slid his arms under the boy's shoulders and behind his knees and lifted him, cradling him to his chest as he hurried to his grey Citroen. He laid Dean gently on the front seat, slipping the belt around his waist. He had driven much too fast, but his mind was only on Dean.

Castiel had felt incredibly proud of his hunter when he'd heard him calling out the exorcism invocation. The books he had left had been chosen with care. He had wanted to extend a peace offering, a hopeful exchange so that the pinch of Castiel's orders might not sting too badly at Dean's pride. Castiel had wanted to laugh when Dean had shouted out “Adios, bitches!” at the demons, for it had crowed out of him so proudly and Castiel knew he was sunk. This boy would be the death of him, surely.

Castiel had squealed up to the front of his small house near the edge of town, a tidy little Cape Cod with cheerful blue siding and yellow shutters. He hauled Dean up out of the car and went to the front door, juggling an unconscious hunter and searching his pockets for his keys.

Once inside, he laid Dean down on the long brown Chesterfield sofa, slipping a soft pillow under his head and hurried to the bathroom for his emergency medical kit.

Castiel pulled a small tufted brown ottoman over to the side of the couch and sat, staring down at Dean's battered face. He tended to the wounds he could, but he did not have the proper equipment for suturing lacerations. He chuckled darkly. Perhaps with having Dean as a hunter, he should stock up on medical supplies.

When his face was as clean and treated as much as possible, Castiel moved his hands hesitantly down Dean's chest. His fingers slipped under the edge of the shirts he'd worn, now bloody and dirty, and raised it slowly upwards. He gasped out loud as he saw deep purple bruises, blood red in the centers, on his sides and stomach. His fingers touched the bruises as gently as he could. He noticed off-hand that Dean's chest was firm and beginning to build with muscles, his stomach soft but flat.

He shook his head to clear the desire building. Dean was seriously injured and would need more help than he could give him.

He jumped when he heard a voice rasp throughout the room. “Gotta...need Bobby.” Who was Bobby?

He knew Dean lived with a family friend that he called Uncle, perhaps that was Bobby. Castiel slid his hands over Deans hips and felt his cell phone in the pocket of his jeans. Pulling it out, he thumbed his way through the contacts until he found “Bobby.”

Castiel stood and walked a few paces away, so as to not disturb the hunter as he phoned.

  
  


\- - -

The phone in Bobby's study jangled in its cradle. He topped off his glass of whiskey and went over to pick it up. Tucking the phone between his shoulder and his ear he said, “Bobby here.”

  
  


“Hello?” A strained British voice filtered through the phone, “Is this Bobby? I am Dean Winchester's Watcher. Castiel Novak. Something...something has happened.”

  
  


Bobby reacted instantly. “Castiel, what happened? Is Dean alright? Where is he?”

  
  


The voice choked before clearing. “Dean was surprised by two demons tonight, walking back to his car from the club. I happened to be there as well and saw him leaving, I followed to ensure he was safe. Dean was beaten badly, he needs assistance that I cannot provide here. I brought him to my home because I did not know where he lived, and he was, is, unconscious, he could not tell me.”

  
  


“Alright Castiel, you did good looking out for our boy, good thinking, quick thinking. Give me the address of where you live and I'll head on out with my kit. I can fix up a good many things, and if he don't need the hospital he will be alright. Dean's taken a lot of beatings Castiel, he's gonna be alright.”

The man gave him the address and he called out to Sam.

  
  


When the boy appeared, Bobby said, “Sammy, your brother's been hurt.” At Sam's panicked look he put a hand on his shoulder. “Now none of that, you know Dean's tough, he just got beat around a little. I'm gonna go out to where he's at and see if there's anything I can do to help. If he needs the hospital, I'll call, son, and I'll come get you. Alright? Can you man the base while I'm gone?”

  
  


Sam shook himself and nodded, fighting to firm up a trembling lower lip. God, those boys were so tough. They'd had to be.

  
  


Bobby grabbed his kit and hauled ass for town.

\- - -

Dean woke again. He wasn't sure where he was, or what time it was. All he could see were wide, blue eyes staring at his face. He blinked and tried to sit up. Castiel's hands were on his shoulders then, holding him down. He struggled. He had to sit up.

Castiel's voice then. “Dean you must lay still. I am not sure as to the extent of your injuries. Please do not make it worse on yourself Dean. Please. Be still.”

He stilled. The voice had told him to, so he would. He looked up into those eyes and saw the concern in them.

“Bobby?”

“I phoned him Dean. He's coming. You will be alright, Dean. I promise it. You did so well tonight. I am so very proud of you.”

The voice was whispering in his ear, and he began to fall back into unconsciousness. The soft press of lips against his nearly brought him out of it, but before he could ask Castiel what he was doing, he was sucked into the darkness.

\- -

Castiel opened the front door at the brisk knock and opened it to find a burly man in a trucker's cap and a fleeced zip up vest. The man's eyes took Castiel in quickly as he stepped inside.

Ignoring introductions for the moment, Bobby strode over to Dean laying still on the couch. He began to set up some medical supplies on the edge of the couch as he spoke.

“He don't look too bad, some cuts and bruises. The hits to the gut I might worry about if Dean wasn't an old pro at taking body blows.” He pressed down in a few places. “Hmm...he could have a broken rib here. I'm gonna wrap it up and see if it ain't just a bad hit.”

Castiel felt soothed by the man's calm tone. Dean would be alright.

  
  


Castiel let out a breath he felt like he had been holding since he'd turned that corner of the alley and seen Dean being beaten. He sank into a chair in the corner and watched the man work.

He absentmindedly ran his fingertips over his lips. They still tingled from where they had pressed oh-so softly to Dean's. Why on Earth had he done that? His brain supplied the answer. Because, you are bloody damn fool, man.

  
  


It was true.

\- - -

Dean woke finally to find bright sunlight streaming through white curtains. He glanced around the room and found no one. With a bitten back groan, he pushed himself up to sit against the arm of a brown leather couch. He was pretty sure he was at Cas' house, but his memory from last night got kinda fuzzy after taking a dozen shots to the head.

  
  


One memory that was definitely _not_ fuzzy was the memory of dry lips pressing against his own. Cas' had kissed him. Why? He wanted the Watcher, sure, but that didn't mean that he'd felt the same way about Dean. But maybe he did? Huh.

Dean rested his aching head against the back of the couch and his mind wandered.

\- -

He wasn't terribly experienced when it came to being attracted, or even going after guys. The experience that had led him to the soul-shaking revelation that he might just be a little something that was not 100% straight had been completely out-of-left-field strange. But then, Dean kind of did strange on a daily basis...

Life as a hunter had just about desensitized Dean to feeling the need to be surprised by anything, by the new and bizarre. But the year he had turned 16 he learned that life could always throw some surprises his way.

They had been in Lawrence for about 6 months when Dean met Rhonda Hurley. He'd always gotten his share of female attention because according to Rhonda, he'd been gifted by God with the prettiest face a boy could have. He hadn't really seen it, but reveled in the bounty it got him nonetheless.

He and Rhonda messed around for a few months, and those few months changed Dean's life forever.

  
  


At first they did all the normal things that young couples did. They went out to movies and made out in the back row, a little over-the-shirt action. It quickly progressed to heavy petting sessions in the backseat of dad's Impala, and finally they had gone all the way one night when Dean snuck through Rhonda's window.

It was like that for a while. Neither of them really seemed interested in really being a couple. Dean liked sleeping with Rhonda, and she liked his cock. They were both satisfied with the arrangement. Or so it had seemed to Dean.

Until the night Rhonda pulled _them_ out of her panty drawer, dangled them on her finger, and demanded that Dean put them on.

They'd been pink, and soft and satiny. Dean had blushed and spluttered when she'd suggested that he put her underwear on.

But he was horny, and she'd told him that unless he put them on, she wouldn't let him fuck her.

So he'd slipped them on, face burning so hot, the slippery fabric pulling tight over his ass, stretching out obscenely over his unbelievably hard dick.

Rhonda had run her hands all over him where the panties covered him, and then pulled them down in the front, the elastic bunching up just behind his balls. She'd pulled him down and they had fucked until Dean passed out.

  
  


After that first time, the panties became a regular addition to their bedroom routine. Rhonda began to experiment with him, trying little things here and there to gauge his reactions.

  
  


It started with a soft, dry finger circling his hole. He'd jumped and tried to move off of her, but she'd clamped her legs around his waist and clenched tight around his cock buried deep inside her, and he surrendered.

Next it was that same finger gently probing inside him while he had a wet, sucking mouth wrapped around him. He had come so hard then that he thought he was having a seizure.

By the end of their time together, Dean was at Rhonda's mercy, and he secretly loved it. He would show up in her room and become instantly, painfully hard when he saw her holding out a pair of panties. She would hold him down when she rode him, sometimes she used scarves tied in knots to her headboard. And then, she had blown his mind into irreparable bits.

The night it happened, they were well into what was by then their usual routine. Rhonda had his hands tied to the bed and she was straddling his waist. She had reached behind her and pulled out a final scarf, dangling it in front of his face.

“Trust me?” She'd whispered.

He nodded, he would do whatever she wanted.

She laid the scarf over his eyes and tied it gently behind his head, tight enough that he couldn't see around it at all. She raised up on her knees and rocked back, sinking her wet tightness down onto him. She'd rode him hard until he'd started begging for her to let him come.

She'd pulled off of his length and leaned down, her lips brushing his ear.

“You want to come, baby?” she licked the shell of his ear.

He'd nodded again and whimpered. Fuck yes he'd wanted to come.

“I'll let you come....if you let me fuck you.”

He nodded again, but his face screwed up in confusion. Hadn't she already been fucking him?

And then she had reached down, pressing lube slick fingers into him.

He'd howled.

He'd felt her get up off of the bed and heard objects rustling around in a drawer. She came back to the bed and ran her hands up the backs of his legs, from calf to ass as she spread him.

He had been trembling then. Oh. She wanted to fuck him. Oh....

He felt her body begin to press up against him when he felt something thin and hard poking against his hole. He gulped air as fast as he could.

She slid fingers into him, one at a time, her entire hand slick with the strawberry kiwi lube she liked.

“Dean, you can say no baby. Do you want this?”

He'd shuddered. Nodded.

“I need you to say it baby. Say you want me to fuck you in your pretty hole.”

Oh God, he was going to die. “Oh fuck, Rhonda. Please. Please fuck me, now. Fuck my pretty hole.”

His face was burning, but his cock was leaking steadily, making a mess of his stomach. He tensed hard as he felt the tip of the dildo breach his entrance.

“You gotta relax, baby, ok? Or it's gonna hurt you.” She stroked his chest and his thighs gently, not moving.

He breathed in deeply, and let it out with a whimper.

She moved slowly, sliding inch after inch of slick, slim silicone inside him until she was sheathed completely.

“How's it feel baby?”

He couldn't think. He moaned loud and long and then gently, experimentally, rolled his hips, fucking himself on the toy.

“That's it...” she purred as she started moving her hips in short jerks, in and out until he was gasping with each stroke and rocking back against her hips. She began to increase her pace until her smooth thighs were smacking against his ass.

He was lost, floating, when she wrapped her hand around his cock and pulled, once up and once down before she whispered. “Come now, Dean.” And he had, harder than he'd ever come in his entire life.

  
  


Later, when they'd both come down from the sexual high, she'd laid beside him, one leg draped over his thigh and stroking fingers up and down his chest. He'd purred and snuggled against her.

“Dean, baby, I want you to know that it's ok to like what we did tonight. I hope that you did. And just so you know, you don't have to do this with me if you know...you might like it better if it was with someone else.” She had spoken quickly, trying to get it all out.

He'd turned and looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know....if you wanted to try that with a boy...that's ok. You don't have to be afraid to want that, Dean.”

He'd stilled in her arms. But...she knew? How? He'd only just figured it out himself.

He saw her smile. “Dean, I just know these things. And...in my own way, I do love you. I care about you a lot, and I want you to be happy. And I don't think that you'll be happy until you try it with someone else and see if that's what you really want.”

They'd fallen asleep in each other's arms. The next morning they said goodbye to each other as lovers, but they would be friends until he left Lawrence.

\- - -

Castiel shifted in bed as he heard Dean moving around downstairs on the couch. He had escaped the living room long ago, and had laid restlessly in bed until morning.

Maybe Dean wouldn't remember the kiss. He hoped. It had been an enormous mistake. He couldn't be with Dean the way he wanted to be, so he had no right going and kissing him when he was vulnerable.

Castiel was miserable as he got out of bed.

He'd go downstairs, make Dean some breakfast, and drive him home.

And then he would see him on Monday, and they would be Watcher and Hunter, and everything would be fine.

Because life had _always_ worked like that. He snorted to hide a sob.

Bollocks.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so much angst guys. damn this chapter hurt to write.
> 
> typical disclaimer- if you are interested in BDSM, please do your research first. stay safe, sane, and consensual darlings.
> 
> *this chapter contains heavy non-con, some torture, lots of emotional owies*

 

Dean came out of his memory when he heard footsteps treading lightly down the stairs. He blushed and pulled a pillow into his lap to cover his arousal.

Cas stepped into his line of sight and his jaw dropped.

Yesterday Cas had been dressed to the nines, in a perfect ensemble. Carefully shaved with his hair parted so neatly Dean had wanted to reach out and muss it just on principle.

Today Cas was in loose black sweats, his feet bare as he walked into the kitchen. He had on a white t-shirt that clung sofly to surprisingly toned arms and a firm chest. His face was stubbled darkly and his eyes looked slightly puffy behind his glasses. His hair looked deliciously disheveled, as if he'd tossed and turned in bed all night.

Dean licked his lips. “Morning Cas.”

\- -

Castiel jumped at the sound of Dean's voice. It was husky, wrecked from his fight and the pain of his injuries.

It was torture.

He purposely kept his back to Dean as he willed his erection to soften, and walked further into the kitchen, where a waist high wall was topped with a bar and a view into the living room hid his lower body.

“Dean, I'm sure you aren't feeling one hundred percent right now, but would you care for some breakfast? Do you drink coffee?” He called out to him.

“Breakfast sounds ok as long as it's not something I have to do a lot of chewing to eat.” Dean said, his voice sounding a little strained as if it wasn't only eating that would hurt his jaw. “And coffee, Oh God gimme some coffee, please!” Castiel's cock twitched to hear Dean moaning out the word please.

  
  


He cleared his throat. “Alright, scrambled eggs it shall be. Perhaps some porridge? What do you take in your coffee Dean?”

\- -

This was all so fucking domestic, he could barely take it. He grinned at the rumpled Watcher in his kitchen. Dean carefully slid off the couch and made his way over to one of the tall cafe chairs at the bar. He tried to get up into the chair, but was failing horribly and he grunted his frustration.

Cas turned from where he had been cracking eggs into a bowl to see him struggling to sit. Without a word he came around the bar and let him put a hand on his shoulder as he guided his hips up into the seat.

His skin burned where Cas' fingers had brushed under his shirt. He leaned forward onto his elbows on the bar. “I like my coffee with a little milk, little sugar. And Cas?”

He turned, eyebrows raised. “Yes, Dean?”

“What the hell is porridge?”

Cas had a laugh like rough honey pouring over him.

\- -

When the eggs had been made, and coffees poured, Castiel had pulled the other cafe chair over to the kitchen side of the bar. Distance, man. Try to keep some distance.

He watched Dean eat slowly, watching for signs of pain.

Finishing his own coffee, he yawned and raised his arms over his head in a stretch. He let out a soft moan as muscles relaxed.

When he looked back at Dean he found him staring, open mouthed at his inner forearm. Castiel glanced down, and when he saw what Dean was staring at he flushed, planning to cover it up with a hand perhaps when Dean's hand grasped onto his wrist.

He stilled immediately, and Dean released his arm.

“Uh..sorry there Cas. So um...what the hell is that? You've got a tattoo? Ha! Charlie was right.”

Castiel looked up in embarrassment and confusion.

  
  


“This is an anti-possession tattoo Dean. As long as it remains intact on my skin, I am protected from possession. I got it after I....rather, I got it when I was 24, roughly four years ago.”

He processed what Dean had said then, “What do you mean 'Charlie was right'? Are you speaking of Charlie, the red-headed girl who helped me with my software problem?”

Dean grinned. “That'd be her.” His face fell slightly as he recalled last night. “Anyway, she and I kind of made friends yesterday and we were talking before I...uh...came in late.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked sheepishly at Castiel.

“Alright, go on.” he encouraged.

“Well she said that she thought deep, down you were probably a wild child.” He laughed, “And now I guess I got proof, huh?”

Castiel gave him a small smile.

Dean would run screaming from him if he only knew how wild he had been only a few years ago.

\- - -

Castiel had never really wanted to be a Watcher. But his father before him had been, and his grandmother before that, and a very long line of Watchers stretched out behind Castiel. His family would have never permitted him to be anything else.

He had suffered through preparatory school, through the training and trials of becoming a Junior Watcher.

He'd spent much of his time trying to suss out ways around the orders he was given, prone to sneaking out in the middle of the night to go to punk rock shows and smoke marijuana with street kids.

Then, a year after he left preparatory school, a new Watcher-in-Training had come to the council and he had shaken up Castiel's life even more.

Balthazar had always been insistently cheeky, their instructors were forever suffering to bring him in line, to get him to be serious. Luckily for Balthazar it never worked, and he remained as he ever was.

At the time he had become fast friends with Balthazar, Castiel had been assigned his first field assignment, which had been to work with a young hunter named Samandriel. Samandriel was 19, but the face and the body that God had seen fit to bless him with made him look all of 16 or 17. They had forged a close bond, working together, training together, and eventually they had become lovers.

They had been forced to keep the relationship secret from the Council, not wanting to be parted from each other.

Samandriel had shared with Castiel a deep fascination with the occult, and using the resources available at the Council Library, one night he and Castiel smuggled out an ancient text of summoning rituals.

At first they had intended only to read the book, to learn about it. But Samandriel had begun to become more and more curious about what it would be like to summon a demon to do their bidding.

Castiel was frightened by what his young lover was suggesting. For all the partying and wild lifestyle that he had done, this was beyond rebellion. The Council would throw him out faster than he could blink.

He'd sworn he wouldn't do it. Begged Samandriel to promise not to.

Samandriel had promised.

He had lied.

 

The night Samandriel summoned the demon was a night Castiel would never forget. Would never be allowed to forget.

He had arrived at Samandriel's flat that evening, and nothing felt right. The air he sucked into his lungs felt heavy, cold. His skin tingled as if being touched by a live wire. He had been planning on confronting Samandriel about his unnatural obsession, and would give his hunter an ultimatum. Either put his desire to experiment with dark forces aside, or risk losing Castiel and their partnership.

He had walked into a ritual already begun.

Samandriel's face was exultant as he had chanted. He spread and mixed ingredients into a hammered silver bowl. Castiel had looked on in fear as his lover raised his hand and slashed at his palm with a knife, his blood running into the bowl. Lighting a match, Samandriel had finished his incantation and dropped the flame into the bowl.

Castiel had run, the door seemed so far away. He'd gripped onto the knob and twisted, but he was trapped. He heard Samandriel gasp behind him and he turned.

  
  


For the next 48 hours, Castiel had been a prisoner in his own body, forced to watch what the demon did to Samandriel.

The demon had whispered his name sweetly into Castiel's mind. “Ahh sweet thing, I am Alastair. That beautiful young man there foolishly believed he could break me.” Alastair laughed out of Castiel's mouth, the sound chilling.

Samandriel was tied down to his own bed. He was bloodied from where Alastair, using Castiel's fingers, had sliced off his clothing, piece by piece, until he was bare before them. He had been gagged, and he was crying, begging Castiel to stop what he was doing, to fight.

But he could not. All of Castiel's training had not prepared him for that.

 

The first time Alastair took Samandriel, Castiel had tried so hard not to hear his screams, his begging.

Twenty-four hours into the possession, Alastair had no longer let Castiel hide. He had told Castiel how much he enjoyed using his young lover, how he loved the way his body reacted, even when he fought so hard not to. Because it was Castiel's body that would thrust into the sweet, tight heat of Samandriel, Castiel's hand that would fist cruelly around his cock and wrench an unwanted orgasm out of him. He had loved knowing that when he was through with the two of them, they would never be as they were, ever again.

The last time that Alastair took Samandriel, Castiel had participated. He had no resistance any more. He had grown to find pleasure in the pained whimpers Samandriel gave out as he slid his length into him slowly, mercilessly. He had wanted Samandriel begging for him to take him, to hurt him, and he did.

The three of them, as Castiel had begun to think of this as an incredibly bizarre threesome, were deep in the throes of racing toward a brutal orgasm,  when the door to Samandriel's flat burst open.

  
  


Balthazar had stared at the sight of his friend in an uncontrollable frenzy of lust and pain. He had discovered the book that they had stolen was missing, and had tried to contact Castiel. Castiel later found out that Balthazar had tried calling him for days, that Castiel had been trapped in that bloody room for days.

Balthazar had thrown holy water at his naked, thrusting body, driving Alastair and Castiel off of Samandriel. Alastair had laughed. Balthazar raised a hand clutching a rosary and began to chant out an exorcism.

Castiel's body had writhed, Alastair fighting to keep his hold.

With the final words of the invocation, Castiel had dropped to his knees, his head thrown back as oily black smoke flew from out of his mouth.

 

Castiel had looked up and cried out for Samandriel. He had scrambled to his feet, rushing to unbind him from the bed, to try to soothe the wounds that his own body had inflicted. Samandriel, although weak, had flinched away from him, and he was lost to Castiel forever.

\- -

Samandriel had needed to be hospitalized for some of his injuries, and when Castiel had tried to visit him, to beg forgiveness, he had tearfully pleaded for him to leave.

One week later, a letter had arrived for Castiel at his flat. Samandriel had written to him, telling Castiel how much he truly regretted raising the demon Alastair, and how he wished he could tell Castiel that he had forgiven him for what he had been forced to do. But seeing Castiel now only reminded him of those terrifying days they had both been held captive. Samandriel was leaving London, quitting the Council, going home to his family. He loved him, he was sorry.

Castiel never heard from him again.

\- -

Balthazar had testified on his behalf. Had told the council how obsessed Samandriel had been with raising a demon, that he had been unaware of what the consequences of summoning an evil force might be.

Castiel was not thrown out of the Council, but he was no longer permitted to work with hunters, or even with other Watchers. Had it not been for the intimate relationship that he and Samandriel had shared, perhaps none of this tragedy would have ever occurred.

He was sent to work in the Council Library, and he 'd cut himself off from everyone, terrified that the demon would return, and use his connection to anyone against him.

\- -

Castiel went to church daily. He had prayed. He had begged the priests for penance.

One day Balthazar pulled him out of church, and dragged him down to a tattooing parlor.

He left that day with an anti-possession tattoo, a pentagram surrounded by the stark rays of a black sun.

\- -  
  


The demon had been exorcised but part of Alastair had never truly left. Castiel had been left craving some of what they had done together. The feeling of causing pain, the submission of another soul, the control. Some nights he had felt half crazed at the fantasies that tortured his brain.

He had then discovered BDSM through internet research one sleepless night and learned that there were ways to express the urges he felt without causing true harm. The community of people who engaged in Dominance and submission relationships had a guideline of “safe, sane, and consensual” and they had many rules in place to protect all parties from harm.

Castiel learned that what he craved was not depraved, as long as the partner that he was with was willing, aware, and that he was able to be in control of himself enough to stop if they called for him to.

He had experimented with a few partners that he had met while going to some of the “Lifestyle” clubs, and he had enjoyed it occasionally. But he had never truly found anyone he connected with at a level that would allow him to find true release. He needed the connection, the profound bond of another person along for the journey with him.

 

For four long years, he had found no one he had wanted to call his own. Until now.

\- - -

Dean watched Cas' closely as his eyes went distant and his face went slack. He watched as his lips parted, oh-so slightly and a pink tongue licked sensually over his bottom lip.

His mouth ran dry at the sight.

“Cas?” Dean's voice was hoarse.

Cas opened eyes that were nearly black with need and Dean let out a soft whimper at the sight.

\- -

Castiel came back into himself as he heard the tiny, needy sound slip out of Dean's throat. He lifted a hand, perhaps to cup Dean's cheek when he realized what he was doing. Snatching back his hand he hastily climbed down from the chair and gathered up the dishes.

Practically throwing them into the sink, he spoke loudly. “Dean, I must go shower briefly, and then if you are feeling better, I will drive you home so that you may recuperate. I am sure that Bobby is expecting you, and your brother will be worried.” He spoke non-stop so that he would not break down and find himself wrapped around Dean, pressing him back into the wall with bruising kisses.

He fled up the stairs and into the bathroom. Reaching into the shower he cranked it on and waited for it to heat. As he waited, he gathered clothing from his bedroom and tried not to listen to any sounds coming from the downstairs.

Steam filled the small bathroom and he stripped quickly, stepping in under the spray. Streaming water caressed his body and his eyes drifted shut.

\- -

He imagined what Dean would look like here in his shower. His body would still be bruised and he would be hissing with tiny pain as the water hit his wounds. Castiel would touch him, sooth his aching skin. Once or twice he would be unable to resist pressing on a bruise to hear the whimper of pain bitten back behind Dean's lips.

His hand slid down his own body to cup his painfully hard cock, stroking gently, teasingly.

He would slide his fingers through Dean's short hair and grip him tightly, pulling his head back so that he could claim the hot, silky skin of his throat. He would alternate sharp nips with the soothing heat of his tongue until Dean was writhing. He would feverishly capture that plush, wet mouth, tongue licking into him as his fingers slipped down his back, lower, until they pressed insistently against the hunter's entrance. Dean would arch his back, pretty moans falling from his lips as he bucked against the intrusion. He would plead.

He growled at the vivid image of Dean's eyes locked onto his as he begged for him. Castiel would press the hunter back against the shower wall, flip him until he could press the steel heat of his cock against his ass. He would raise two fingers to Dean's lips, command him to suck them. He shuddered, he could almost feel that tongue flicking against the tips of his fingers, sucking on them as if they were Castiel's cock. Then he would press the slick fingers into his heat, one at a time, stretching the tight ring of muscle open wide for him. When Dean's cries were but keening wails, he would grip his hips and thrust himself home in one shove.

 His orgasm hit him without warning, and he shoved a fist into his mouth to muffle his groan as his release washed down the drain.

\- - -

Dean was restless. He was confused. Cas had kissed him last night, and the look he had given him this morning had been so crammed full of desire and wanting that Dean had wanted to beg him to take him upstairs as fast as he could.

  
  


But Cas had shaken himself and the look was gone. He'd fled to the safety of his rooms and Dean had been certain he'd seen fear on the Watcher's face.

What was he so afraid of?

Dean looked up from his feet at the sound of shoes on the stairs. Cas came into view and he was as he had been yesterday. Pressed and dressed, not a hair out of place. He was wearing black slacks and a soft fuzzy looking burgundy sweater. The color looked amazing with his eyes. Dean drank it in, openly appreciative. He was hoping he wasn't wrong here. Cas had shown interest, right?

\- -

Castiel watched Dean's eyes devour him, and he sighed. It had been a complete lack of control that had led to him showing Dean how much he wanted him. They couldn't be together. For one thing Dean was still only 17, and Castiel was truly not interested in being arrested for statutory rape. Another was that Castiel was deeply afraid that if he ever let anyone close again, they would be taken from him. One way or another.

“Dean....” Castiel did not want this confrontation. He wanted more than anything to haul the boy against him and kiss him senseless. But he couldn't. He had to make Dean believe that there was no way that they could be together. Ever. “Dean, this has to stop. We cannot do this together.”

\- -

His heart was pounding in his chest. What? No way, please no. He was hearing things wrong, right?

“What?” He asked softly.

Cas' eyes softened “I am so sorry Dean, but I was wrong to look at you that way earlier. You are 17 and my responsibility, my charge. I will not take advantage.”

“But...you kissed me. You kissed me and give me these longing looks all morning, and now, what? None of it mattered? It didn't happen, right? You say sorry and it was a mistake and it all goes away for you?”

He was breathing hard now, his breath catching as his chest tightened from the wrapping on his ribs. He wasn't going to cry. He wouldn't. Not like the first person, first _man_ that he had ever let himself be open like that with had just rejected him royally.

Cas tried to come forward, maybe to touch him, he didn't know. He jerked away and grabbed his shit from the couch, racing for the door.

  
  


He called Bobby, holding back tears, and asked him to come pick him up at a gas station about five blocks from Cas'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small edit to tie up the samandriel loose end- big thanks to the commenter who pointed it out! 
> 
> also threw some more sexy shower time in there cause i wanted some good clean fun after the not so sexy scenes of Cas' flashbacks. i needed to give the poor guy some good things for this chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i have an antique weapons fetish, and cas is letting me play :D   
> a mostly exposition chapter, but it needed to be done.

On Monday morning, Dean dropped Sammy off at school, but instead of driving over to the high school, he decided to go driving around the back roads of Sioux Falls for a few hours. He didn't want to get off to a bad start already with cutting classes, but he didn't think he could face having Jo and Charlie looking at him like some kind of deviant freak who harassed other dudes for fun.

No. He'd ride around, listen to some tunes and clear his head, then go into school around lunch time.

He sighed.

He'd have to go into the library at some point and talk to Cas. He really _really_ didn't want to, but he had a plan. He'd tell Cas that he got it, he understood, that they could forget about it. I mean really, was it that big of a deal anyway? It was one kiss, and Dean had been practically unconscious at the time anyway, and one look, and if he really thought about it, could have meant anything. He'd probably just read into all of it way too much. Saw things that weren't there. Yeah.

“Yeah, right.” He muttered under his breath.

\- -

Castiel had stood in the hallway where Dean's locker was located until ten long minutes had passed since the final morning bell signaling students to be where they belonged.

Dean had not arrived.

Perhaps he had chosen to stay home from school due to his injuries from his fight. Maybe...maybe he was avoiding Castiel. He had seen the glitter of tears in the boy's eyes as he'd run from his house that morning.

He winced. He'd only known the hunter for three days and he was already getting too close, already getting him hurt.

With a sigh he turned from the hall after giving Dean's locker a longing look, as if he could stare and hope Dean into materializing in front of it.

He walked back to the library and sat down in his office. He took out a book of lore pertaining to an ancient sect of demons who worshiped Lucifer and tried to lose himself in the dry text. He tapped a pencil on the desk. His knee bounced as he tapped one of his polished loafers against the floor. He began to hum tunelessly.

He snorted with self-deprecation as he realized how restless he was. Usually a nice, dry volume would take his mind off of anything, but today his fingers were itchy.

That meant it was time to get out a few weapons and train until his body felt loose and relaxed.

He walked out of the office and over to the locked cage that served as an after hours book drop-off, supply storage, and home to one of his secret pleasures. His weapons collection.

The battered metal storage cabinet was wide and unassuming from the outside. He slid the key into the lock and pulled the doors open with both hands.

He swept his eyes over the cabinet, trying to decide what to choose. There were several swords of iron, bronze, and steel hung in neat rows along the back. There were knives, daggers (one of Castiel's personal favorites was a ritual dagger with a unique waving pattern to the blade), stakes of St. Antony's Wood. He had several crossbows and a mace, which when he'd fawned over it, Balthazar had bet him a hundred pounds that he would never use it. He hadn't yet, but the piece was beautiful. At the bottom of the cabinet was a small steamer trunk, which when propped open would reveal a veritable apothecary of herbs and ingredients for spell and ritual work, along with several gallons of holy water, artifacts, amulets, and several large tins of salt. He preferred not to use guns, but he had a handsome set of Italian repercussion dueling pistols nestled in a gleaming wooden case, a unique dagger with a flintlock pistol adorned with a horse head pommel and engraved ivory handle, and a small English gentleman's pocket flintlock pistol dating back to the 1700's.

He decided upon one of the swords, one with a long thin blade similar to a fencing sword. He strode into the open area of the library, trying to stay out of sight of the doors and took a deep, centering breath.

He kept his grip light on the hilt of the sword, his arm held loosely out in front of him. He began with an advance, sliding his left foot forward on the heel, ending in an en garde stance. He moved quickly then, feinted and parried with an invisible opponent. He lunged forward on a jump, jabbed the sword and slid it forward and back in a slick glissade down his opponents blade before moving effortlessly into a Passe Arriere, moving the leading foot behind on the outside to spin himself before landing back into position.

He had been breathing deeply and evenly as he moved, but the breath caught in his throat and he froze as he focused on the previously empty space before him.

Empty space that now contained a certain Dean Winchester, eyes bright and shining as several expressions warred upon his face, as if he was unsure if he should laugh or look impressed.

\- -

He had walked into the library and turned the corner to the small open area beyond the reference desk to see his Watcher gracefully feinting a slim sword, tucking his arms to his sides as he spun in a complex move of feet and body.

He stood, arms crossed over his chest and watched, waited for Cas to notice his presence.

When he had spun around one last time and seen Dean standing there, he'd frozen, and then an adorable flush spread from his cheeks all the way down to the open collar of his shirt.

“Wow, Cas...those are some slick moves ya got there. They teach you that in boarding school?”

The man shifted, eyes finding his.

“In fact they did, Dean.” His eyes slid away then. “I...I was not expecting to see you today, you didn't arrive this morning for class. I had assumed you were taking the day to heal.”

He _was_ still feeling pretty crappy. His ribs and sides were stiff and aching, his face still looked like he'd run into half a dozen doorknobs. But he'd taken worse beatings and still kept ticking. This was nothing.

“Nah...I just came in late. Moving a little slowly today.”

Their eyes found each other again, blue and green, and held. There were words in both of their eyes.

“Dean...I...” Cas started.

He cut him off before he could get going. “Look...I get it. It sucks, but I get it. Don't expect me to mope around like a girl over it. I didn't come in here to talk about that. I wanted to talk about Friday night, ok?”

He saw the Watcher's face sober, a frown between his brows before they smoothed out, features settling into a professional Just-Business type of look.

He nodded. “Right then, please continue.”

“Why were you there? I mean, you just kinda happened to swoop in Batman style right in the nick of time.” He'd been wondering how the Watcher had been there just when he'd needed him most.

“I had received a phone call from the Council alerting me to an increase in demon activity in Sioux Falls. I was asked to canvass many of the business that cater to large crowds to ascertain if the intel was correct. Friday night I was observing at the local club, Purgatory, when I saw what I believed to be a man possessed by a demon leading a young girl out of the club. I...I followed them, but unfortunately lost them for a short time. When I found them again, the young girl had been possessed by another demon, and you were being beaten. I ran to my automobile and retrieved the salt that I keep there so that I could close off the alley and block their escape. When I returned, I heard you speaking the invocation. Very impressive, by the way, Mr. Winchester. I see that your studies in fact were of some benefit.” Cas smiled as he finished his explanation.

Returning the smile with a cocky grin.”Yeah, guess so.” His mouth turned down in a small frown then as he considered what the Watcher had said. “Why do you think so many demons are coming to Sioux Falls? I mean...its not exactly a jumpin' place.”

“The Council is not sure at this moment, but signs and omens have been increasingly prevalent for the last month and a half. They assure me they will look into the matter and apprise us of any information that they deem of import.”

Dean snorted. “Alright, sure, they'll let us know.”

“Do you have any further questions, Dean?” Cas asked.

“Nah not right now, but now that I know you can handle a weapon, I wanna see what other goodies you got.” He started looking around, seeing if the Watcher had a stash hidden somewhere. He found the open cabinet set against the back wall of the book cage and gaped.

“Cas....” he breathed. “Holy shit.” He ran his finger over the spiked tip of the mace before turning to the other man with a wide grin. “You officially earned about a billion cool points right now. This stuff is amazing!”

\- -

Castiel smiled at Dean's back.

“I'll remember you said that when you accuse me of being stuffy and boring next time.”

He walked forward to stand next to the hunter. “Would you like to train with them sometime?”

Dean's eyes widened and when he turned a brilliant, beaming smile at him, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Hells yeah I would! When? Now?” Dean was animated. He chuckled at the apparent excitement.

“No, not right this moment Dean. You must go to class now. But, I'd like to see you back here in the library at three o'clock, and I do mean three sharp this time Mr. Winchester.” He leveled a stern look at the boy. “When you arrive, we can discuss a training, patrolling and study schedule that will accommodate both of us. Is that agreeable, Dean?”

He saw the hunter blush slightly at the reminder of his behavior Friday and nodded. “Yeah, Cas. I'll see you after class then.” he said as he began moving for the door.

“I look forward to it, Dean.” he replied softly to the boy's retreating back.

Perhaps things would work out, Castiel thought. Perhaps his foolish indiscretion would be forgotten and they could begin working together as they were meant to. He could feel that Dean had amazing potential, he was sure that the boy would end up surprising them all in the end.

\- - -

From behind a tall shelf on the second level of the library, Jo took a minute to gather her thoughts. She had come into the library after lunch to get a book on trigonometry. Last week she had begged Charlie to help her, and her friend had suggested she get a book about the subject and so that they could study together.

But the exchange she had just heard between Dean Winchester and the gorgeous librarian had confused the hell out of her. Demons? Councils? Weapons and training?

What the hell was Dean involved in, and how did the librarian play into it?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspiration for cas' antique guns: http://www.redriverrenegades.com/bp_pistols%20&%20revolvers.htm  
> seriously go here, if only for the music. i'm pretty sure i entertained myself for 10 straight minutes giggling over the music.
> 
> also, the fencing moves are real moves.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> quick little baby chapter to wrap up part one. part 2 begins about a month later in the story.

 

Ten minutes later Jo and Charlie faced each other in a deserted hallway. They grabbed onto each other's arms and said excitedly.

“ **I have to tell you something!”**

\- - -

Dean had walked into the library at three pm. Sharp. He'd knocked on the door to Cas' office and the Watcher had come out to join him at the big table. They mapped out a tentative schedule for training, patrolling, and studying that would allow Cas to get his library work done and for Dean to have some free time to use as he chose.

They were sitting around the table, discussing what sorts of things Dean was interested in learning, what he should learn, and what he already knew when he looked up to see Jo and Charlie walk into the library.

“Hey guys.” he said cautiously. “What's up?”

Charlie spoke up, her voice firm. “Dean, we want to talk to you.” Her eyes flicked to Cas. “And you, too Mr. Novak.”

He and Cas exchanged a look. Dean shrugged.

“Ok, so....we want to know what kind of crazy stuff you're into.”

Dean looked at them questioningly. “What are you even talking about?”

“Dean, Friday night I saw you in an alley, getting beaten to a pulp by two weirdos with black eyes. I heard you saying something in Latin, and then Mr. Novak showew up and apparently saved your ass.”

Jo spoke then. “And I heard you talking today about demons. Demons, Dean? Really? Whats a council? Why do you need to use weapons and train? What's going on?!”

Son. Of. A. Bitch. They knew.

“Uhhh....” He looked to Cas.

“Dean, it is your decision to share with your friends the truth if you wish. Only remember that their knowledge of such things may lead them to harm one day.”

Dean nodded.

“Ok. You chicks might want to take a seat.”

\- -

“So monsters, demons, are real?” Charlie said, looking distantly off over Dean's shoulder.

“Yep.”

“And you hunt them? Hunt them, and fight them?” Jo was incredulous. She muttered under her breath. “ I can't believe I'm having a conversation about monsters.”

“Yep.”

The two of them just kind of...nodded slowly. Did they believe him? Were they about to go running to the nuthouse to have him committed?

Charlie looked at Cas then. He had been silent the whole time Dean had explained that he was a hunter, and that meant that he tracked and killed supernatural creatures, ghosts, werewolves, even vampires.

“So what do you do Mr. Novak? Are you a hunter too?” She seemed curious now.

“I am what is known as a Watcher, Miss Bradbury. There is an organization based in England, of people such as myself, who work together with hunters, especially younger hunters who may not have families or any other means of support.” Cas' smooth rumble explained.

“So...you're....Dean's Watcher then?” Jo asked, looking to Dean and then back to Cas.

“Correct. What you overheard us discussing earlier was what Watchers do.” He nodded as he spoke.

The girls were silent then.

“So, you chicks got any other questions?”

They shook their heads in tandem. Then they exchanged a look before turning back to him with matching grins.

  
  


**“We want to help.”**


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and part two begins!  
> can you figure out which buffy and SPN episodes i combined here? prize to whoever does! :D

About one month after he had started his life over at Sioux Falls High School and had met Cas, his Watcher, Dean's life had settled into something shockingly close to a comfortable routine.

On weekdays he would take Sammy to school, go to class (if he didn't need to cut because of a hunt or to heal from a beating), eat lunch in the library with Charlie, Jo, and sometimes even Cas. After school he would study, doing both his homework and the lessons Cas assigned him. He would then pick Sammy up and go home. They'd have dinner with Bobby around the scarred wood of the kitchen table. Sometimes Charlie and Jo would join them, and they would spend the evening sprawled on the couch with Sam watching Dr. Sexy M.D. and old crappy movies and eating popcorn and beef jerky. Some nights he would have to go out on whatever small, local hunt or patrol that Cas sent him on.

On the weekends they would train. Dean would drive the Impala over to Cas' house, or Cas would come to the salvage yard and they would spar. Sometimes Cas would bring some new weapon to demonstrate.

Dean secretly loved Cas when he was fighting. He would roll up the sleeves of his carefully ironed shirts, exposing his tattoo. His eyes would gleam, glowing bright blue with intense focus as they faced off.

Some weekends he and Cas (and occasionally Bobby) would head out on long distance hunts, sometimes up to 5 hours away from home. They had shared a motel room once, when they had first started taking these trips, but when Dean had seen Cas that night, hair wet from the shower and stretching his tired muscles out, his raised arms lifting the hem of his grey t-shirt a few inches to show a tempting few inch of smooth, pale skin, he had suggested separate rooms from then on.

He had bonded closely with Charlie and Jo, and they were always making him laugh, and even though he hated to admit it, they were both a great asset to what Charlie had dubbed almost instantly “The Scooby Gang.”

Neither of them had brought up what they had found when Charlie had dug into his life, and Dean was grateful. Sometimes he found Jo staring hard at him, but he ignored it.

At first, when they had told him they wanted to help, he had said not only no, but hell no. But Charlie could use her amazing computer skills to research like no one's business (much to Cas' consternation the first time Charlie had cracked her laptop open on top of a pile of his books) or to hack into various organizations for one reason or another. Jo was fantastic bait. He laughed to think about how much she loved playing the damsel in distress and then would turn around and kick some serious monster ass.

Dean and Cas? They worked flawlessly together. Dean had even seen Cas unstuff his shirt sometimes and become a total freakin' badass. Sometimes he even understood Dean's pop-culture references, but mostly he didn't.

They were both always cautious around each other physically, unless they were sparring. There were too many times Dean had wanted to touch, or be touched, so he tried to keep his distance when he could.

He had woken up more than once, achingly hard, heart pounding from vivid dreams of blue eyes and wide, firm hands, but he tried to stuff down those feelings of longing every time they bubbled to the surface.

\- - - 

On a rainy Tuesday afternoon in mid-September, Dean was sitting in Principal McLeod's office next to a stoned-looking kid with a mullet. McLeod was standing in front of his desk, leaning a hip against it as he looked them both over with a sneer.

 

“A lot of educators tell students, 'Think of your principal as your _pal_.' Well I say, 'Think of me as your judge, jury, and executioner.' Tell me...”

 

He looked from Dean to the other boy. “Which of you do you think is the most troublesome student in this school?”

 

Dean squirmed in his chair.

 

“The two of you do seem to be competing for the title. On one hand Dean has never stabbed a horticulture teacher with a trowel.”

 

The kid drawled lazily, “I ain't stabbed nobody with a trowel.” He grinned. “They were pruning shears.”

 

McLeod gave him a disgusted look. “On the other hand Ash has never set fires on school property.”

 

Dean blanched. There had been an instance last week where the boys locker room had been haunted by the ghost of a former football star. They'd had to salt and burn the Letterman jacket that had hung in the trophy case.

 

“The two of you seem to be tied in the class-cutting and fight-starting events. You really are neck and neck here.” His eyebrows raised. “It's rather exciting.”

 

Ash grinned “What's the winner get?”

 

McLeod flicked his eyes between them.“Expelled.”

Dean gulped.

The principal continued in his smooth voice, “This Thursday the school is hosting a Parent-Teacher evening. Your parents,”

He looked to Dean, “assuming you have any, will meet your teachers,” He looked to Ash then, “assuming you have any left. I have, stupidly, decided to put the two of you in charge of this event. You have until then to prepare. I will expect refreshments, posters and banners made,  and the lounge in the lobby made into a habitable place for adults. This will incur my good will, although generally that is not one of my virtues, and may affect what I tell your parents when I meet them. Am I being clear?”

 

Dean nodded his head violently. “I'm clear.”

 

He looked at Ash. Ash just looked stoned. “Don't you feel clear?”

 

He looked back to McLeod. “We're _very_ clear.”

 

McLeod just smiled evilly. “Good. Because if you screw this up, your parents will be coming to clean out your lockers.”

 - -

 Dean and Ash walked out of the office. Charlie and Jo had been waiting in the hallway outside the door, and stood as he emerged.

 

“Hey dude? Ash?” Dean poked at the kid's arm when he didn't respond. He turned bloodshot eyes to him. “Look...we gotta do this right, I can't get kicked out. Meet me after school in the library and bring some art supplies.”

 

“Yeahhhhh ok man.” Ash turned and wandered down the hallway.

 

“Oh my God.” Dean buried his face in his hands. “I am so fucked.”

 

Charlie patted him on the back. Jo laughed. “Ash ain't so bad Dean, he's pretty damn smart actually. Like...for real, like a genius.”

 

“Well I just hope he keeps his shit together long enough for this to be over with.” Dean shook his head, thinking about all the extra work he had to do now and groaned.

 

“We'll help you out Winchester, promise.” Charlie said earnestly and he gave her a smile as they waved goodbye and parted for their respective classrooms.

 

\- - -

In an abandoned warehouse downtown a Yellow-Eyed demon stepped in front of a crowd of about thirty lesser demons. They were restless, they wanted to play.

 

“You all know why I've called you here. We have tracked the young Dean Winchester to somewhere in this town. We know that he attends the local high school here. I want him. He and his father hunted me endlessly, and now I will turn the tables on him. Watch him, find out what he does, where he goes and we will take him.”

  
  


The demons dispersed and Azazel smiled. He had waited, he would wait no longer.

\- - -

It was 3:30 and Dean and the girls were in the library, bent over the table painting banners.

There was a long-haired boy curled up sleeping on top of another.

Castiel had just gotten off of the phone with Naomi. The demon activity in Sioux Falls had tripled nearly overnight. Something was coming.

He stood in the doorway of his office and watched his hunter and his friends joke and chatter as they worked. Dean threw his head back with a deep laugh and Castiel wanted to feel that laughter shaking through Dean's body as he held him. The boy had a long streak of orange paint down the side of his face, and had splatters of it on the tight white t-shirt he had stripped down to when banner-painting got messier than expected. Castiel's mouth ran dry as Dean stretched over the table to reach a spot, his jeans hugging the curves of his ass, the natural bowing of his legs making them appear to be spread invitingly.

He clenched his eyes shut tightly and he took a deep, shuddering, cleansing breath before he strode forward.

“Dean, I've just got a phone call from the Council.” His eyes flicked to the sleeping boy. He deemed it safe to speak openly. “The demon activity in Sioux Falls has apparently grown exponentially in a short amount of time. There have been reports of electrical storms everywhere, temperature fluctuations and several cattle on nearby farms have been found mutilated. Dean, something is coming, and it appears to be coming very quickly. We will need to investigate this further.”

The hunter looked up. “But Cas...didn't you hear me say what McLeod said? If I fuck this up I'm out of here. I can't get kicked out of another school...I've only been here a damn month.” Dean was huffing.

“I do understand that Dean, but don't you think that a mass influx of demons upon this town is rather just _slightly_ more pressing of an issue?” Castiel's hands planted on his hips as he looked at his hunter.

“Cas...look....I don't have a choice here man. This asshole here...”

Ash piped up then, “Hey! I'm here ain't I?”

Dean and Castiel paled simultaneously.

\- -

“Uh...you...you heard...?” Dean was trying to get the word out over his shock.

Ash rolled over and sat up on the table, his legs dangling over the sides. “Yeah, man. But look, don't loose your shit. I know a little somethin' about demons. Those omens y'all were talkin' about? I can set up a computer search program that'll track 'em for ya. Y'all can just keep doin' whatcha doin' and let Dr. Badass handle the omens.”

Every mouth in the room was hanging open.

“You...what?” Dean said, not believing what he'd heard.

“You deaf or somethin' bro? I said I know 'bout demons, I can track the omens for you.” He said the words very slowly as if speaking to a child.

“How the hell do you know about demons?”

“My daddy, rest his soul, got chewed up all to hell one night by a demon 'looked like some creepy little girl. My momma and I ran for the hills, and never looked back. I started to do some researchin' tryin' to find out what it was, but I never did.”

Cas spoke quietly. “Acheri demon. They may take the form of a human child without possessing a body.”

Ash nodded. “Well, anyway I figured out that demons leave traces wherever their sorry asses roam to, so I know what omens to look for. Any more questions?”

They all shook their heads.

“Alright then.” He grinned and laid back down on the table.

\- - -

Thursday morning Dean woke up with a groan. He _so_ did not want to do this thing tonight.

Dr. Badass, as Ash insisted everyone call him, was apparently part of the team now, and he had tracked the omens on what looked like a homemade laptop. Charlie had been equally horrified and impressed. The signs all seemed to converge around a warehouse somewhere in the middle of town, and Dean had been itching to go hunting, not playing host.

He dressed and went downstairs to shove some breakfast in his face before he and Sammy took off. Bobby was sitting at the table when he walked into the kitchen.

He needed to let Bobby know that he was expected to make an appearance tonight at Parent-Teacher night.

“Hey Bobby?” he asked.

“Yeah kid?”

“You busy tonight?”

Bobby turned and fixed him with a suspicious look. “Why?”

“I uh...I had to do this parent teacher thing in order to get McLeod off my back for that salt-and-burn we did last week, and apparently he thinks if he threatens to tell you what a crap student I am that I'll sit and play nice. Well...I did play nice, cause I don't wanna get expelled, but I kinda need you to show up and talk to him.” Dean said it in a rush. He knew Bobby understood that sometimes he had to miss class or that the typical hunt didn't always go off smoothly.

Bobby chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I can make an appearance for your sake, kid. You want me to play civvie for the Principal, or can I just be me?”

Dean grinned. McLeod would freaking die if Bobby showed up as just Bobby.

“Hell yeah, Bobby. You be yourself. The guy'll probably shit his pants.”

\- - -

By 5:30 that night everything was set up. There were banners, posters, food and....

Shit.

There was nothing to drink.

Dean wandered down to the cafeteria and rooted around until he found a few bags of lemons. How hard was it to make lemonade, right? Just lemons and water and a little sugar. Dean made the lemonade and carried it carefully out to the refreshment table.

Charlie appeared around the corner.

“Ooh lemonade!” She poured herself a glass. “How much sugar did'ya use?”

Dean missed her take a sip and spit it back into her cup. “Its....uh...very good.”

\- -

He and Charlie were hanging around watching people mill about the lobby when Meg sashayed up to him.

“Hey you. Haven't seen you around much lately, a girl might think you didn't like her.” She looked up at him through her lashes and ran a hand down his chest.

He definitely didn't like this girl.

“Hi Meg. I've just been kinda busy, with school stuff, hanging out.”

She scoffed. “You mean with that loser brigade you call friends?”

Charlie held out a glass of lemonade. “Meg. Have a glass of lemonade. Its fresh.”

\- -

Bobby had shown up around seven, dressed in his usual dirty trucker cap and grease stained jeans. He clapped Dean on the back and McLeod stepped over. He raked his eyes over Bobby's clothes and reluctantly held out a hand to shake. Bobby grinned and shook the man's meticulously manicured hand with his big greasy paw. McLeod threw a disgusted look his way and he asked Bobby for a minute of his time.

Five minutes later Bobby came back and gave Dean a wide smile. “Well, boy...if he thought you were bad, now at least he thinks he's got an idea of where it come from.”

\- -

He and Bobby were standing there laughing with each other when all of the lights in the school suddenly flickered and went dark. There were screams here and there as people tried to figure out what was going on.

Dean looked at his uncle. They both knew what was coming. Demons.

The front door of the school burst open and an average sized man surrounded by black eyed demons stepped inside. He was only a few paces away from Dean when he stopped.

“Hello, Dean...I'm sorry to crash your party, well actually I'm not, but hey. I couldn't wait.” The man blinked his eyes and when he opened them again, he was staring at two pale yellow eyes.

Dean started. He'd found him! The bastard had killed his dad and disappeared, try as Dean might he couldn't find a sign of the demon anywhere since. Apparently all the demon omens they'd been tracked led to this fucker.

He lunged, but the Yellow-Eyed demon flicked a hand and they were plastered against the wall.

\- -

Castiel was in the library, sitting at his desk with a hot cup of tea when every hair on his body stood on end. The lights flickered, once, twice.

He was on his feet and running for the weapons cabinet when they went out.

He was yanking it open when the library doors flew open, the sound of running feet echoed through the large room. He had raised a stake of St. Antony's Wood and crept to the edge of the book cage when he heard Jo scream out his name.

“Cas! Cas, please!” He ran to her, taking in her wild-eyed look. “Oh God, Cas, there are demons in the lobby! They have Dean!”

His heart stopped for a full minute before he burst into action. He ran to the filing cabinet in his office and took out a slim voice recorder.

He had recorded Dean practicing the Latin invocations for exorcisms and hadn't had the heart to erase it, even though the hunter had memorized it.

He handed Jo the recorder. “Jo, take this and run to the office. You may have to pick the lock, but take this into the office and play it on a loop over the P.A. System. Hurry!”

As she turned and ran for the door he snatched up a large jug of holy water and another stake before breaking into a sprint for the lobby.

On his way there he spotted students and parents huddled in corners. “Run for the library, there is an exit in the back of the stacks on the second level! Go now!” They scrambled to their feet and ran.

Just as he was turning the corner for the hall leading to the lobby, a demon barreled into him. He wasted no time slamming a stake into its heart and he ran as it fell screaming to the floor.

\- -

Charlie was hiding. She was crouching in the corner of a supply closet, trying to make herself as small and quiet as she could.

She bit back a scream as she heard the doorknob rattling, and it was thrown open.

In the dim glow of the emergency lights, she caught the outline of a female figure as it hurried into the closet. The door closed and Charlie clicked on a flashlight shining it into...

Meg's face.

They both groaned with disgust, but neither of them were eager to leave their hiding place.

\- -

Dean was struggling against the wall when he heard a scream come from down the hall. Yellow-Eyes turned toward the sound but was caught by surprise when a figure crashed into him, with a shouted "Get the bloody hell away from him!" Dean heard him howling in pain, and the invisible bonds on his body disappeared. He slid down the wall to see Cas riding Yellow-Eyes down to the ground, a stake of pale wood shoved through his back.

He watched the demon writhe, but it managed to rear up, throwing Cas off and he was slammed into one of the tables. Reaching behind him, he pulled the stake out of his back and turned to Dean.

“Dean, Dean, Dean...whatever will I do with you now.”

He was advancing on Dean when the speakers of the P.A. System crackled and squealed with feedback. There was scratchy silence for half a second before he heard his own voice working it's way steadily through the wordy exorcism Cas had taught him.

  
  


“ _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus....”_

The demons in the lobby shrieked, holding their hands to their ears. Yellow-Eyes ran for the door.

\- - -

Castiel blinked his eyes open to see the demon he had staked running out of the door as other demons began to “smoke out” as Dean called it.

He heard his name being shouted and when he opened his eyes again he found wide green eyes staring down at him, hands shaking his shoulders.

“Dean...I will be fine. Merely knocked on the head too hard, I believe.” He looked into Dean's eyes, searching. “Are you alright?”

Dean nodded. Shook his head. “Yeah...no.”

“Dean?” Castiel questioned.

“Yeah I mean...I just can't believe it was him. Why did he come here? He said he'd been looking for me? Why? Hasn't he killed enough of my family?” Dean asked of no one, perhaps he was asking the universe for answers, because Castiel did not know them.

“I'm sorry Dean. I have just as many questions as you in this matter.”

Dean helped him stand, slinging an arm around his waist. He tried to tell himself he was leaning into the hunter's warm body because he was woozy, and not because it felt too good to be this close to him.

\- -

Charlie and Meg were still huddled in their hideout almost forty-five minutes later when the door opened again. Meg screamed.

“Meg, shut up.” A familiar voice gruffed.

Charlie exploded out of the closet and into Dean's arms.

He grinned and led her back to the library.

\- - -

Principal Fergus McLeod was standing on the front lawn of the Sioux Falls High School. There were police cars in the street and there were officers everywhere attending to the parents and students that had run from the building.

He gave the parents and press who asked the answer he had been told to give if anything like this, anything supernatural, were to happen on school grounds. "Don't worry folks, it's over now. Must be gang related, P.C.P."

\- - -

In a plushly decorated office at the City Hall building, a Yellow-Eyed demon named Azazel was tied to a chair. Under the chair was a devil's trap. He was helpless.

Mayor Nick D'iavolo smirked.

His “daughter” Lilith had called him from outside of the school where she had said a demon had stormed in and attacked Dean Winchester.

What Nick wanted to know, was why?

“Are you aware of who I am?” He asked the bound man.

He shook his head, no.

“I am the Mayor of Sioux Falls, and I would shake your hand, but it would appear that you are...incapacitated. Surely, you understand.”

He leveled a cold stare at the man.

“I understand that you attempted an attack on a young man who resides in this town this evening. Young Mr. Winchester. Tell me, if you will, why?”

“I've been tracking the Winchester family for years. I killed his mother, and then just a few months ago, I killed his father. I merely want them all. Like a collection.” The man grinned insanely.

“I can appreciate a man with ambition, but I will tell you this once, and one time only. Dean Winchester is not to be touched. He is the key to a prophecy that must be fulfilled, and in order to do that, he must reach his age of majority first. I need this boy to live, for now, if I am to get what I have worked toward for the last ten years. Do you understand?”

The man nodded. His eyes held perhaps just a bit of suspicion. Did he think Nick was going to kill him now?

He laughed, a small wicked sounding huff of air. “Dear man, Azazel you said your name was? I am not going to kill you, or rather exorcise you, seeing as you are a demon and not a man, in fact.”

He gave the man a considering look.

  
  


“I am not in the habit of disposing of things that may still be useful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> most of McLeod's speech is direct quoting from Snyder's at the beginning of School Hard (s2ep2.3)  
> it is by far one of my favorite scenes...and i just couldn't fudge with it too much, but alas, they are not my words.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> please don't hate me...i'm just the messenger. these idiots just put the ideas in my head.

 

 

Once they had ensured that everyone that had been present for the demon attack had been accounted for and safe, Dean had told Bobby that he would take Cas home and make sure he was alright. He was still dizzy from being thrown around and into furniture, was having trouble standing up alone. Dean didn’t want him to drive home that way and end up crashing his stupid crappy foreign car.

As they were getting ready to leave, Charlie had asked if Dean would drop her and Jo off at her house, so the four of them piled into the Impala and set off.

\- -

Charlie and Jo were sitting in the backseat, and Charlie was snuggled up against Jo, practically lying in her lap with her arms tight around her.

It had been one hell of a night, and while it hadn’t been the most action packed adventure the Scoobies had been on together so far, they were all still shaken.

Charlie turned her face so that she could see into the front of the big car. Poor Cas was slumped over in his seat, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

But the more interesting sight, Charlie noted, was that Dean could barely keep his eyes off of him. There was genuine concern in his expression, concern for his Watcher. Once or twice she had seen him take a hand off of the steering wheel and move it towards the other man, fingers outstretched as if he would touch him, before his hand would clench into a fist and return to the wheel. Very interesting.

When they pulled up to her house, she leaned over the front seat and planted a quick peck on Dean’s cheek. “Thanks, Dean. I kinda love you.” She grinned as he turned to her.

He had chuckled. “I know. You chicks stay safe.” His eyes flicked to Jo passed out in the back. “Take care of her.” He said looking at her directly.

“Always.” She sighed and nudged Jo awake and out of the car. “You take care of him, too.” She locked eyes with Dean, his face tender as he looked at Cas.

“Always.” His smile was sad. “Bye Charlie. See you tomorrow.”

\- -

He parked the car in Cas’ driveway and said, “Cas? We’re here.” Cas opened his eyes.

“Hmm?”

Dean sighed and got out, crossing over to the passenger side, opening the door. He reached in and wrapped an arm around Cas’ waist, helping him slide out of the seat to stand. They walked to the door with his arm supporting Cas’ weight and he took the keys out of his hand as it shook slightly, struggling to fit the right key into the lock.

Once inside, he led Cas over to the couch and sat him down gently. “I’ll get you some ice for your head.”

He made his way into the kitchen, rummaging around in a couple of drawers before he found a dish towel to fill with ice.

He came back and pulled the ottoman over to sit down in front of the Watcher. He searched the man’s face and his eyes blinked open.

“Thank you, Dean.” The reply was soft.

He smiled. “Well, you did it for me, ‘bout time I repaid the favor.”

“Hmm.” Cas hummed, a small smile on his gorgeous mouth.

Dean leaned in slightly and raised his hands to cup the man’s cheeks. He fought not to lean in and kiss him. Instead he slid his fingers upward, gently carding through Cas’ hair. The black strands parted softly around his searching fingers, silky and warm from the heat of his body.

Cas hummed again, deep in his throat, his head falling back just slightly. Without opening his eyes he asked, “Dean…what are you doing?”

He grinned. “Looking for bumps. Wanna make sure you won’t have a concussion.”

“Mmm…well, whatever the reason, it feels like heaven.”

His stomach clenched at the soft moan that slipped out of Cas’ mouth. He leaned in further, feeling his breath brushing against his lips for a minute before he moved, pressing his lips against Cas’ gently.

\- -

Castiel’s eyes popped open then, his lips parting around a startled sound of surprise. He felt Dean’s mouth push just a fraction harder against him.

His hands came up, pressing back against the firm chest of the boy in front of him.

Dean’s eyes opened then and he jerked back, a look of pained guilt crossing his face.

He jumped up off of the ottoman and quickly walked a few paces away. “Cas…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” Castiel saw his eyes clench shut hard as he walked into the kitchen and pressed his forehead against the door frame.

Castiel rose from the couch, no longer feeling dizzy, and started toward the hunter.

There was no warning of movement, and then he was pressed up against the wall.

Dean’s green eyes were dark, hard. “No, you know what? No, I’m fucking not sorry.” He gritted out before crashing his lips back against Castiel’s. He slid his tongue against the seam of Castiel’s lips before forcing his way inside, licking into his mouth with a tongue that burned. Dean’s fingers clamped onto his hips and he ground his lower body against him.

Castiel was on fire. He growled into the hunter’s mouth and raised a hand to fist into the short brown hair at the back of his head. His other hand gripped onto Dean’s upper bicep and he dug his fingers in, drawing a heated moan from the mouth sliding slick across his own.

He flipped them deftly, slamming Dean’s back into the wall as he pressed his hips bruisingly hard into him. The hand in the hunter’s hair yanked, pulling his head back sharply, exposing his throat to Castiel’s hungry gaze.

Dean bucked his hips against him as he latched his kiss-bruised mouth, his teeth, onto that pulsing flesh. Castiel groaned deep within his chest as Dean whimpered and rolled his hips, his long legs spreading around the insistent press of Castiel’s hips.

\- -

He gasped and moaned when he felt the incredible hardness of Cas slotting itself against his own painful arousal. He rolled his hips harder, the friction of heat and layers of clothes was sweet and rough against his leaking cock.

His hands reached for Cas’ hips to pull him closer, but the hand in his hair released its grip and the next thing he knew Cas had both of his wrists manacled in his hands and pressed firmly against the wall above his head.

He found Cas staring at him, lust blown eyes raking his face, taking in his swollen lips.

“Cas….please!” He whimpered. He was begging. He wasn’t sure what for, but he didn’t want this to stop.

Half a second later the heat of Cas’ body was gone and he was standing alone against the wall.

\- -

Castiel’s brain slammed back into gear, the haze of lust clearing as he heard the hunter’s broken plea.

He flew back from Dean, stumbling backwards until his back hit the far wall.

“Dean…oh God. Please, no. This can’t happen, you know it can’t.” He was shaking, his body cold now as the blistering warmth that had come from Dean left him.

He saw the anger the second it replaced the need in the green eyes staring at him from across the room. “No, Cas! Not again. I want you so fucking badly it hurts. I know you want me, too! Please don’t do this.”

His heart ached as he heard the voice crack. “Dean, please. I’m sorry! But you bloody know why we can’t. You are 17,” He held up a hand as the hunter’s mouth opened. “I don’t care that you’ll be 18 in mere months. I cannot risk what could happen if anyone found out. For God’s sake Dean! I’m 28. Do you realize I could be charged with statutory rape if I took you to my bed? Do you!?” He was shouting now, furious with himself for losing control.

The voice that came then was soft, Castiel could practically hear the tears in it. “I know. Part of me doesn’t care. It hurts so badly sometimes to be around you, Cas. I’m sorry. I’ll just…I need to get out of here. I can’t think with you around me right now.”

He gathered up his coat and moved toward the door. Castiel was still frozen in place against the wall, chest heaving, when Dean came level with him. “I’m sorry this is so hard. But…I know what I want, and I guess I finally realize now I can’t have it. At least not yet. I’ll try to forget about it, but Cas…one day, you’ll figure out you want me just as badly as I want you and I won’t be there.” His eyes bored into Castiel's with the last words.

Without a backward glance, he pulled open the door and disappeared into the darkness.

\- - -

He slammed the Impala in reverse a peeled out of Cas’ driveway.

He drove. His chest was tight. Aching. He couldn’t breathe.

Without knowing how he’d gotten there he found himself parked up the street from Purgatory.

Yes, he’d go in, get a drink. He had an awesome fake I.D. in his wallet that he used for hunts sometimes, it would work. Fuck, he needed something to kill this burning pain in his chest.

\- -

Benny was sitting across the bar when the boy slid onto a stool. He shoved an I.D. card towards the bartender and husked out, “Whiskey…double. Now.”

Something was wrong.

He left his seat and wandered over to the kid, Dean, he thought he remembered meeting him weeks ago.

Cautiously, he put a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder. He was momentarily stunned as drowningly deep green eyes locked onto his.

“Hey, Dean right?” The kid nodded. “You alright, darlin’? I couldn’t help but notice, and I don’t mean to pry, but you look a might upset. What’s wrong?” His hand rubbed in small circles over the tense shoulders.

“Yeah…I just…I needed…” The boy’s eyes clenched shut tight, a bitter tear squeezing out from his eyes.

Benny could just tell that Dean needed to let something loose, but his pride wouldn’t let him do it in a crowd. He slid an arm around Dean’s waist and leaned in, mouth near his ear. “Shh, darlin.’ Come with me, I’ll take care of you.” He whispered, still rubbing mindless circles into his back.

A low whimper of pain sounded in the boy’s throat and he slipped off the chair. He turned back to the bar for a second, grabbed his drink, tossed it back with a shudder, dropped some bills on the bar, and then he followed Benny out a back door and into a dimly lit alley.

\- -

Once outside, Dean turned to face the other man. He was pretty sure his name was Benny, had met him and his weird sister that night Meg had hauled him around like a prize to introduce to her friends.

Now that he was out here, he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting.

He raked his gaze up and down the figure in front of him. Benny was about the same height as Dean, but built thicker. Broad shoulders filled out the fitted black blazer he was wearing over a pristine white crew neck. Slim hips were showcased by tight fitting vintage-washed jeans over fucking sexy as hell black leather motorcycle boots with silver fittings. Flicking his eyes up to the other man’s face he found a light brown scruff of beard and a goatee framing plump, soft-looking lips. He winced at the stab of pain that shot through him when his eyes found gentle, searching blue eyes, but they weren’t Cas’. They were a lighter, almost frosted blue, but deep with some kind of emotion.

He stopped thinking then, and walked backwards against the wall of the alley, pulling Benny in against him by the lapels of his blazer. Strong arms wrapped around his back and he closed his eyes as those dusky lips met his in a gentle kiss. His mouth parted on a choked sob and a tongue licked carefully into him, opening him for a deeper kiss. He grabbed onto the belt loops of Benny’s jeans and tugged him closer, asking with his hands and his body for what he wanted. What he needed. 

Benny slid his mouth from Dean’s and over his jaw, down his neck. He felt the man’s surprisingly cool mouth, his tongue, laving over the red mark Cas had sucked into his skin earlier. His shoulders started to shake, he was whimpering softly, pleadingly as the tears began to fall.

\- -

Benny pulled back from Dean’s neck, the desire to taste him was pounding through his body, but as he felt the boy shaking, bitten back sobs falling from his lips, he moved his head so that he could look at him.

Dean turned his face away, hiding his shame in the shoulder of his leather jacket.

Benny reached out and cupped his jaw, turning his face back to look at him. “Shhh…baby. It’s ok. If you need to let it go…let it go. I’ve got you. What do you need, darlin’?

Dean’s eyes were locked onto his as he took a shuddering breath in. “I need…I need you to fuck me Benny. Please…I need it so bad.”

He groaned deep in his chest at the words, the near sobbing plea. He leaned back in, pressing his quickly hardening cock into the boy’s hip, nosing behind his ear before placing a kiss to the sweaty skin. “I can do that.”

\- - -

Dean woke up the next morning in a strange bed. Naked. Aching deep inside, but not the ache in his chest of last night. This was a truly physical ache, and as he sat up he pushed himself down against the mattress and savored the pain. He felt other spots of smaller aches and looked his skin over. He found purple fingertip bruises on his hips, his thighs. His nipples were swollen and tender. He pinched one between two fingers and his eyelids fluttered as he let out a shaky breath.

He looked around to see a broad back, a lean body sprawled face-down in a pillow.He tried very hard not to think that the man's little snuffling snores were adorable.

He carefully slid off of the bed and tip-toed around the room, searching for his clothes. He found them scattered around the foot of the bed, and pulled them on as quietly as he could.

He was creeping toward the door, when the impulse struck him. Sneaking back to the bed, he found a phone laying on the nightstand. He was going to assume that it was Benny’s. He carefully tapped his own phone number into it, and then sent a text to himself. He saved his number in Benny’s phone before placing it as quietly as he could back where he’d found it.

He left then, closing the door behind him silently as he slipped out of the other man’s house.

\- - -

He’d been surprised to find the Impala sitting the driveway, his keys in his pocket. He couldn’t remember driving here…he’d hoped the other guy had. He carefully inspected his Baby for scratches or signs of abuse, and sighed as he found nothing.

He slid into the familiar leather seat and behind the wheel as he started her up and headed for home.

His first order of business when he got there: Call Charlie. He desperately needed to process what had happened last night, and he needed to talk to someone who understood.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the story of Dean's first "gay thing." :D

 

* _Scooby Dooby Do, where are you, we got some work to do now. Scooby Dooby Do, we need some help from you now.*_

  
  


Charlie woke slowly to the sound of the Scooby Doo theme song blasting out of the speaker of her phone. She grinned.

It was Dean.

“Hey Winchester, you're up early this morning?” She put every ounce of suggestiveness into her greeting.

He laughed, but the sound came out raw, and she instantly sat up in bed, alarmed.

“Honey, what's wrong? Is Cas ok?

He laughed again, choking with a sob. “He's fine, I guess. He was when I left last night.” He paused.

“Charlie....I need to talk to you about something. Privately. Can I come get you on the way to school? I'm gonna let Bobby take Sam in this morning.”

She was curious, concerned for her friend. “Of course, Dean. Whatever you need. Just let me tell Jo she's on her own this morning and throw on something spiffy. I promise I won't even do a montage.”

“That's pretty serious Charlie, nothing ever interrupts your morning montage.” He was chuckling now, sounding a little more like himself.

“Winchester, you're acting pretty serious, so this calls for serious measures. I'll see you soon.”

She hung up and sighed.

She turned to her best friend cuddled close to her, still sleeping. Jo's mouth was pursed in a truly adorable little moue. Charlie poked her and her nose crinkled up in protest.

Oh _Jesus._ “Sweetie, wake up.” She poked harder.

Jo blinked her eyes slowly and smiled so sweetly, Charlie's breath was stolen for a second. She had shared a bed with Jo hundreds of time before, but it was getting harder to pretend it was platonic on Charlie's side.

She huffed. “Dean needs to talk, so he's gonna pick me up and I'll ride with him to school. Can you get your mom to pick you up?”

Jo's eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Talk about _what_?”

Charlie shrugged. “He didn't say, but he said it was private and he sounded pretty upset.”

Jo pouted, crossing her arms under her small chest. “He never wants to talk to _me_ like that.”

How could she be in love with someone so completely oblivious. Dean was obviously not into Jo, but she refused to see it. And refused to see how much it hurt Charlie that she couldn't see how much _she_ wanted her.

Honestly, she was getting pretty tired of pining for someone who didn't want her and probably never would.

“Right. Well, he's gonna come by to get me in about 20 minutes, so I'm gonna go get ready for school. I'll see you later.”

She turned from the bed and went for the bathroom to shower.

\- - -

When Dean picked Charlie up in front of her house, she looked pissed. He cocked an eyebrow as she slid in and slammed the door. “Easy with my Baby, you heathen!” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye as he pulled into the street. “Trouble in paradise?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, just the usual. Jo is in love with you and I'm tired of being ignored.”

He laughed. She had never really come right out and said it, but he'd known since day one.

“Sorry babe, but Jo is blind, cause for someone who is best friends with two closeted gays, she surely can't see the rainbow flag waving in front of her face.”

Now Charlie looked at him with _her_ eyebrows raised. “Changing your tune now, huh? God, what exactly happened last night?!”

He sobered instantly, staring down into his lap.

“I uh.....had sex last night. With a guy.” He confessed to the steering wheel.

“OhmyfudgingGodwhat?!” She squeezed it out in one fast breath. “With Cas?!”

She looked at him with wide eyes and he gave her a shocked face.

She grinned. “I figured it out, big boy.”

He shook his head sadly. “No, not with Cas. Though seriously not for lack of trying.”

Her head tilted to the side, silently questioning.

He sighed. “We kissed, like the best fucking kiss of my entire life (and oh God could I _be_ a bigger girl about this?) and then he said no, turned me down. Said he wouldn't risk anyone finding out he'd slept with me when I was still under 18.” He pulled one of Sammy's bitchfaces.

They pulled up into the student parking lot then, and he shut the Impala off.

Charlie leaned over in her seat and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh honey....I'm so sorry. I could tell you really cared about him, too. But you know, he does have a point. You are _so_ jailbait.”

He glared at her, but it lacked heat. She was right.

“Ok...so if it wasn't Cas, who was it?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, you know a guy named Benny? Goes to school with us?”

Her eyes went huge, and then she giggled.”No way! He soooo doesn't come off as gay.”

Dean snorted. “And what? I'm a village person?”

She smiled, reached out and patted his cheek. “Yes, Dean. You are a macho, macho man.”

She burst out laughing and he punched her in the arm.

\- - -

The phone in Castiel's office was ringing, and he ran to catch it. Just as it was about to roll over into voicemail, he picked up.

“Hello, Castiel Novak speaking.” He started talking before the phone was completely pressed to his ear.

“Hello, darling! Have you missed me yet, or are you too busy playing with a beautiful boy to talk to your dearest old friend.” The lightly smarmy British tone cooed over the line.

Balthazar. He _would_ call now.

“Hello, Balthy...and yes, love, I miss you terribly. And no...not too busy with beautiful boys.” His voice sounded miserable. He _was_ miserable.

“Oh, dear lord Cassie, what's happened?”

He laughed self-deprecatingly. “Merely the product of having the one thing, one person, that I have wanted more than anything, willing and eager and under my hands....”

There was brief silence. “Castiel, that does not sound like the bad thing you are trying to make it sound like.”

He sighed. “You forget Balth, that this perfect dream of mine, is also 17 years old. I had to stop us from making a mistake last night. I have never wanted anything so much, and willingly forced it away.”

It was Balthazar's turn to heave a sigh. “Castiel...for all your dominance in the bedroom, outside of it, I bloody swear you must be a secret painslut. No one, except for you, could purposely cause themselves this much pain and heartache.”

Castiel was silent, considering. His friend wasn't wrong.

“Right then, let Uncle Balthy lay this out for you. Darling, I detest making assumptions that are not about me, but allow me to assume that there are considerable feelings involved here between the two of you?”

Castiel groaned, remembering the betrayed look on Dean's face when he'd left last night. “Yes. On both sides I believe, if I haven't buggered that all to hell already.” He pulled his glasses off and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Then this is what you must do. You must express these feelings you have bottled up for your lovely Dean. And then you must do everything within your power to let him know that you want him, but you want him legal.” Balthazar's usually teasing voice was firm.

“And then what?” Castiel asked, hope blossoming in his chest.

“And then my love, you make that boy happy in whatever way you can until he turns 18 and you can do the deed.”

It all sounded....well, stupidly easy. He'd made it so hard for himself, letting his guilt and fear over Samandriel creep into how he felt about Dean.

“Balthazar....you beautiful, god of a man,” He could practically hear Balthazar preening on the other end. “I am _so_ bleeding glad you phoned.” He was smiling, he would give the man anything he wanted in thanks if his plan worked.

Balthazar chuckled into the phone, “Of course, darling. Where else would I get my vicarious dramatics? You do what I've said, do it right away. I will give you a ring soon, love. Ta!”

He hung up the phone.

He could make Dean happy without sex, though God knew if his poor cock could handle such torture for four months, his heart would be full enough to compensate.

Castiel was determined to try.

\- - -

Dean and Charlie were walking arm-in-arm into the school. He was feeling about one million times better than he had since last night. He had decided to share with Charlie some of his history when it came to him and dating dudes.

Benny was only the third guy that Dean had ever slept with, and the first since Michael.

\- -

Shortly after Dean and Rhonda parted ways as lovers, she had set him up on his first date with a boy. A freakin' blind date too. Dean had been nervous, hadn't wanted to try to date someone from Lawrence in case he wasn't 100% sure that he knew that he wanted it, so Rhonda had given him the phone number of a good friend of hers from the next town over.

Dean had walked into the little university cafe where they had planned to meet, and stood off to the side, eyes sweeping the room, searching for someone who might look like what Gabriel had called “his gay thing.”

Gabriel had not looked surprised enough when Dean had told him that he was thinking of trying to date guys. He'd looked his best friend in the eye and said, “Winchester, I've pretty much known you were at least curious about dick since like the first minute I met you.” And that had been the end of it. If things went shitty on his date, he had support. He could call Rhonda, he could call Gabe (but God knows the smug bastard wouldn't ever stop teasing him if he, Dean “Sauvechester,” couldn't pull of a date with a dude.)

As he had looked around, Dean had started to feel eyes boring holes into his back. He'd turned to see a shorter, compactly built, dark haired boy sitting at one of those high cafe tables in the corner of the room. He had had a drink in front of him, and he was playing with the stirrer as he made hesitant eye contact with Dean. He'd looked down and up at Dean, smiling, before raising an eyebrow.

He had been willing to guess that this was Aaron.

He'd walked slowly over to the table, giving himself the chance to run if he felt like it. But really, it was an opportunity to get a good eyeful of the boy. He was slim, probably 5'7 of 5'8, and had short trimmed dark brown hair teased just slightly, and (his hand to God) a full freakin' beard. He was dressed smartly casual in faded-out jeans and a kelly green cardigan sweater over a grey tee. He was kind of definitely hot, Dean thought as he'd finally come to a stop in front of the table.

And then his brain had stopped working. How do you greet a gay blind date?

He'd stuck out his hand, awkwardly. “Uhhhh...you must be my gay thing.”

A couple people had turned around curiously at his sudden blurting out.

Aaron laughed, and Dean had liked the sound of it. He put his hand out to grasp Dean's, and then slid his other hand over top of their clasped hands, his thumb rubbing against the top of Dean's hand. “That'd be me, sweetheart. Aaron, by the way, Aaron Bass.” He'd smiled up at Dean.

“Uh..nice to meet you. Dean Winchester.” He had started to relax a little, clearly this wasn't the other guy's first gay date. He'd felt kind of comforted that he was in the hands of someone at least a little more experienced than he was.

They had scooted onto the high seats and talked. For hours. They had both gone through at least three coffees, and Dean had started to get fidgety in his seat when he felt like his bladder would explode. But he hadn't wanted to miss a second talking with this guy. He was smart, funny, just a little bit of a hipster, but not enough to make Dean want to punch him.

Aaron had cut a look at him then. “Dean, go to the bathroom already. I'll be here when you are done. Go now.”

Dean had stilled. There had been a clear command in the smaller man's voice.

Ok...now he could get how he and Rhonda were friends.

He'd kept his eyes on Aaron as he slid off the chair. He found the bathroom across the cafe and headed for it. He'd felt those deep brown eyes on his back again, and he looked over his shoulder. Aaron gave him a brief nod, a smile, and he went in.

Dean took care of his business first, and then after washing his hands, slipped his phone out of his pocket. He had tapped out a quick text.

  
  


**[Recipient: Rhonda**   
**Sender: Dean Winchester**   
**Message: So Rhonda, didn't realize you were setting me up with the male version of you. :P]**

His phone pinged the message tone a minute later.

**[Recipient: Dean Winchester**   
**Sender: Rhonda**   
**Message: Shut up slut :D u knw u like it whn I tell you wht 2 do. Aaron's a good guy Dean. He can give u wht u need bby. Txt me whn u get home, wana knw alllllll abt it.]**

He'd grinned. Yeah...it hadn't taken him long with Rhonda to realize that he got off on being dominated. Liked it when someone else took control. He shivered thinking about the heated look Aaron had given him.

\- -

He had made it back to the table to find Aaron signing a credit card receipt. He had paid for them. Dean tried valiantly to not find that hot as fuck.

He stood next to the table, and with Aaron still seated he had been eye level with Dean, and they looked at each other. Dean put into his face what he hoped was an expression that relayed 'I'm in your hands. Do what you will.'

Aaron's eyes had darkened impossibly further, and he drew his bottom lip under his teeth. One hand had reached out and cupped Dean's cheek, fingers sliding along his jaw. “I knew you would be good, Dean. You're such a good boy, aren't you?” His voice had been soft, with a touch of wonder.

Dean had shuddered, full out, his eyes closing at the words. When he opened them again, Aaron was still looking at his face. He'd whispered then, “Yes.”

\- -

They had left the cafe then and Dean followed Aaron to his apartment. Aaron was 18 and just out of high school. He'd graduated early and moved out on his own away from his crazy, Jewish family. Aaron had led him up the stairs to his door, and opened it, motioning for Dean to precede him in. He hadn't touched him at all since that soft hand had stroked his face, and Dean's body was thrumming with anticipation..

As soon as they had cleared the door and Aaron had closed it gently behind him, Dean's only warning was a hand on his wrist, and he was being pushed back into the front door. He'd looked down to find Aaron staring up at him with a smirk on his pale rose colored lips.

He'd raked his eyes over Dean's body then, openly appreciating the effort he had gone through. Dean had felt those eyes slide from his soft red sweater that clung to him in all the right places, collar and tails of a white button up poking out, to his hips and legs in brand new tinted-wash jeans, all the way down to the scuffed brown boots on his feet. His body burned under the stare, and he'd let out a soft whimper.

Aaron's eyes had snapped back to his, a barely audible growl slipping out of his throat. “So eager, Dean. What are you thinking in that head of yours?” He pressed his slim body forward then, sliding a knee between Deans slightly parted legs. “Are you thinking about my hands on you, Dean?” The knee rose a few inches against his inner thigh. He trembled. “Are you thinking about me folding you over on my couch, fucking into you like the slut you are?” His voice had been so soft.

Dean was dying, he couldn't tear his eyes from the other boy's. “Or...” he had leaned in, his thigh now pressing firmly against Dean's erection trapped in his jeans. “Are you thinking about my handprints on your ass?” Dean moaned soflty. “Ahhh...do you want to be spanked, Dean?”

He had nodded violently. Ready to beg. Rhonda had tried some spanking with him, and it had been fun. He'd been itching to try it again.

Soft lips had pressed hungrily against his, claiming a breath-stealing kiss from Dean's pliant mouth.

The mouth had inched its way back until Aaron was nipping at his earlobe. “I want you bent over the arm of my couch. Strip, and then do it, Dean.”

Dean had never gotten naked so fast in his entire life. He had cast an almost nervous glance behind him as he reached the couch and spread his upper body over the cushioned arm.

He'd heard a groan. “Fuck, Dean. You have no idea how beautiful you are right now. Spread out just for me, that ass just begging to be taken.”

He had felt the press of a body against the back of his. A clothed body. He'd been slightly confused at the sensation, and looked over his shoulder questioningly.

Aaron had chuckled darkly. “Dean, I just met you. I'm not going to fuck you. Yet. But you need this, and I want to give it to you. So just lie there and take it.”

Dean shrugged internally, only a little disappointed. He'd relaxed back against the couch, body loose and waiting.

“Such a fucking good boy for me, Dean. Fuck.” Aaron's voice was low and growling.

He'd laid his hands on Dean's back and slid from his shoulders, the barest hint of nails dragging along his skin made him writhe. The hands moved from his back, over his ass, and down over the backs of his thighs.

“Spread your legs for me, Dean. I want to see how hard you are for this.” Dean complied and he moaned as a hot hand hand loosely circled his cock, playing along its length, thumbing along the already wet slit before moving away.

The first blow was unexpected, and he had yelped. A hand soothed over his back and down to rub at the now stinging skin of his ass. “Just like that, Dean. Relax for me and take it like a good boy. Can you do that?”

Dean had nodded, his brain already blissed out on the high of the moment.

“Good.”

Hands then, raining down in no recognizable pattern. Sometimes one smack at a time, others in quick succession or groups of three to five until he was keening, hips rocking against the arm of the couch desperate for friction against his painfully hard cock.

“Dean? How you doing, sweetheart?” Aaron's voice had floated towards him.

He couldn't speak. What were words again?

A wicked chuckle had made his body tighten and his hips buck. “Nod then, sweetheart. If you're doing fine, just nod. If you want to stop, shake your head.”

Dean nodded slowly, and he felt the hands return to stroke over the burning globes of his ass. Three more quick smacks against each cheek, and then one very powerful final blow to his left cheek had him screaming out a surprised orgasm, hips rutting against the couch, his come splattering messily on the brown fabric.

“Oh, fuck, Dean. Did you just fucking come from only a spanking?” Aaron's voice was awed as he stood Dean up and sat down on the couch with him spread over his lap, Dean's ass thankfully in the open air as he laid on his side with his head resting against Aaron's thighs. His fingers had stroked softly against the burning skin, soothing some of the sting.

Dean had flushed hotly, tried to turn his face away. Firm fingers gripped his jaw and turned him to face the other boy. “Dean, did you just come from me spanking you?” His voice had been soft still, but demanding an answer.

He'd nodded his head.

Aaron groaned hard, his fingers coming to fist in Dean's hair. “Do you know how fucking hot that is, Dean?” Without waiting for an answer, his hand had slipped down to pull his belt open, pop the button of his jeans and ripped the zipper down, lifting his hips to yank his hard, red tipped cock out of his pants. He stroked himself as he looked down into Dean's face, fingers tightening in his hair as he saw him flick a tongue out to lick his lips as he stared at the other boy's dick.

“Do you want to suck it, sweeheart?” Aaron had asked, groaning as his hand flew up and down over his pre-come slicked length.

Dean's eyes had snapped up. Did he want to? Fuck yes. But he hadn't ever done it before.

“I've...I've never....” He blushed and Aaron's hand slid from his hair to his face, the pad of his thumb grazing over his full lower lip.

“It's ok, Dean. Do you want to try?” His hand was still stroking as he spoke.

Dean had nodded. “Get on your knees, Dean. Slide down between my legs and kneel.” He chuckled darkly. “Be careful not to sit on your ass just yet.”

He did as he'd asked and was sitting there in between slim thighs, looking up at Aaron's face. “We'll go slow.” His hand returned to the back of Dean's head, just holding, not pulling or yanking on his hair, just gently pressing him forward until the blunt head of his cock was a mere inch away. “Open your mouth, sweetheart.” Dean complied.

He'd felt the firm, wet head of the boy's cock slip through his lips. His eyes rolled back in his head at the bitter, heady taste and swiped his tongue against it, gathering up the leaking fluid and swallowing it down. “Oh fuck, Dean, just like that.” He sucked the head experimentally and was rewarded with a throaty moan. He slipped more of the cock into his mouth, tonguing and sucking as he went, trying to figure out what Aaron liked. Dean knew what he liked, so he tried as best he could to recreate that. He pushed as much of Aaron into his mouth, letting it hit the back of his throat gently. Aaron had gasped, his fingers scraping against Dean's scalp then as he clenched his fist in his hair. “Oh...oh shit....Don't you dare fucking stop, Dean.” Dean sucked again as he pulled back, his teeth scraping just barely against the underside of his cock. “Oh fucking God....” Aaron's eyes were wild and he pulled Dean's head back, off of his length. The hand not in Dean's hair reached down to grasp his cock, and he aimed it at Dean's wet, open mouth. He groaned hard, growling on the end and shot his release over Dean's lips, nose and cheeks.

They both sat back (Dean avoiding sitting his ass down on his heels) and looked at each other. “Fuck,” They both said at the same time.

\- -

From that night on, Dean and Aaron had dated, fucked tirelessly on every surface of Aaron's apartment, and enjoyed each other's company immensely. With few months until the end of Dean's Junior year, Aaron had told him he'd be going away to college in California. They would miss each other, but they treasured the time they had left.

It had all been perfect until he had been caught masturbating early one morning in the boy's locker room showers, moaning out Aaron's name as he pumped two fingers inside of himself.

  
By Michael.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sexting and angst. yup.

 

Dean and Charlie had tucked themselves into a corner of a hallway that was slowly filling with students, and were talking with their heads close together to avoid being overheard. They had about 20 minutes until their classes started and Charlie didn’t question Dean’s desire to avoid the library.

He had just finished telling Charlie a _very_ edited version of how he had met Aaron and about their (according to Charlie) “epic gay romance” and her eyes were wide as he was about to cautiously delve into the story of Michael when Dean’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. He had a text.

From Benny.

 

**[Benny: missed you this mornin’ darlin’]**

He blushed furiously red. Charlie leaned over to read what it said and squealed. “Is that from Benny?!”

He nodded. He had snuck out, unsure of how to leave after a one night stand without awkwardness. Especially because of his near emotional breakdown in front of the older boy before the amazingly hot sex. He tapped a text back.

**[Dean: sorry….wasn’t sure what to say/do. never had a one nighter w/ a dude b4]**

His phone vibrated again less than a minute later.

**[Benny: doesn’t have to be just one night]**

His mouth dropped open and he turned the screen to show the text to Charlie. He was definitely not expecting _that._ She squealed again. “Dean! Oh my God!” her grin was enormous.

**[Dean: really?]**

**[Benny: really, really darlin’. i thought we were good together last night. i think you need someone to take care of you like that all the time]**

Holy _shit_. Was this real life?

**[Dean: i’m….kinda into someone right now]**

Dean was squirming in his seat. 

**[Benny: that the same someone that drove you to the club last night w/ sorrows to drown?]**

Dean gulped. 

**[Dean: ….yeah]**

**[Benny: then they ain’t takin’ very good care of you darlin’]**

Another text came in right after.

**[Benny: i could take care of you…if you wanted me to]**

He knew the guy was mostly right. Cas didn’t want to be with him. Not yet anyway. Dean wanted to have sex with him, but Cas had acted as if sex was all that Dean wanted from him.

“Awwww Dean!” Charlie was far too nosy and he smiled bashfully. Could he see himself with Benny? He smiled, considering now.

**[Dean: how about we try a date, first?]**

His heart was pounding. Hopeful, maybe.

**[Benny: : ) darlin’…i would love to take you out. when? soon i hope]**

He looked at Charlie “What should I say?”

She looked at him like he was stupid. “Well, do you like him? Or think you could?”

He thought about it, then nodded slowly. He couldn’t wait forever for Cas to wake up and realize that he wanted Dean. Four months of longing and hoping would kill him. And what then? What if the Watcher decided he didn’t want him after all?

“If he’s interested…then yeah. I think I could like him.”

Charlie snatched his phone from his hand before he knew what she was doing. She tapped on the screen, waited for a minute, and when she gave it back there was a sent text and a response.

**[Dean: how about saturday?]**

**[Benny: : ) perfect. how do you feel about dinner? do you like to eat?]**

Charlie was cackling gleefully. “Ha! He’ll find out soon enough.” It was true, he guessed. He loved to eat, and cook. 

He cut a withering look at her. “You are having _way_ too much fun with my potential love life.”

She grinned and held up her hands in defense. “Hey! I’m not getting any gay romance, unless Jo decides she wants to switch teams any time soon, or Hermione comes in and sweeps me off my feet Gone With the Wind style. I’m living through you Winchester .”

He rolled his eyes and tapped a response back to Benny’s question. 

**[Dean: as long as there’s pie, i’m in : D]**

**[Benny: i’ll remember. gotta head to class darlin’. talk to you soon]**

 

He was smiling stupidly. His freaking cheeks were actually hurting. Fuck. He was _such_ a girl.

 

\- - 

Charlie was chattering excitedly about his upcoming date when Jo walked up. She looked at him, and then at Charlie. 

“Hey guys, what’s up? How’d the ‘talk’ go?” 

“It went great, but guess what? Dean has a date tomorrow!” Charlie’s voice was her normal peppy tone, but her eyes were hot with anger as she looked at Jo, as if willing her to wake up and smell the coffee.

Jo frowned and crossed her arms in front of her, a sassy hip cocked. “With who? Meg?”

Dean was red faced. “Uh…Benny Lafitte?”

Jo looked at him with narrowed eyes for a second and then threw her head back and laughed. “Nice one, Dean.”

Charlie’s voice was hard. “It’s true, Jo.” Her eyes were challenging.

“Dean?” Jo looked incredulous.

He flushed. “Yeah, it’s true. We’re going out tomorrow night.”

“So, does this mean you’re like, what? Gay now?”

He sighed. “Jo, I’ve been at least bisexual since I was 16, and I’ve dated only guys for the last year and a half.”

She huffed and pouted as she tried to accept what he’d said. “Too bad.”

Dean and Charlie laughed at her pout. Then her face brightened as she remembered something. “Oh hey! I went to the library to see if you guys were there. Dean, Cas was looking for you. Said he needed to talk to you about something important.”

She had pulled out her phone then and was looking down at it, so she didn’t notice him wince before an angry look crossed his face for a second. “It can wait. We gotta get to class anyway.” 

 

He stood and threw his bag over his shoulder, waved goodbye and headed to History

\- - -

Castiel was sitting in his office, a sinking feeling in his gut.

Dean and the girls had not shown up at the library for lunch. Castiel had gotten used to having their presence in the background as he worked. He'd enjoyed being able to brush his body subtly against Dean’s as he reached past him to snag bites of his lunch. 

After his talk with Balthazar, he had felt buoyantly hopeful and was impatient to talk to Dean.

Dean seemed to be avoiding him though. Had he destroyed any chance of working things out with his panic last night?

Unable to sit still as the silence of the library ate at him, he had wandered to the cafeteria and had seen Dean and the girls sitting around a table, eating and laughing. He had noticed Dean staring across the room, his face glowing and flushed, before he would look down at the phone in his hand, tap something on the screen, and return his gaze.

 

What had caught his hunter's attention?

 

\- - -

When classes broke for lunch, Dean had suggested they eat in the cafeteria today for “a change in scenery.” Charlie knew why he didn't want to see Cas and had let it go. Unfortunately, Jo hadn't.

 “But Dean, we _always_ eat in the library. Seriously, like, we've never eaten in here since the first day of school. Why the need for change now?” Her tone was suspicious.

 Dean had opened his mouth to answer, but he wasn't sure how to lie when Charlie cut in.

“Just let it go, Jo. Drop it.” Her voice meant business.

 

And then, to everyone's surprise, Jo let it go.

 

They had been sitting for about 15 minutes, when Dean's back pocket vibrated. He jumped and grabbed for his phone.

  **[Benny: you look good today, darlin :)]**

 Dean blushed and looked up, scanning the small ocean of teenagers. His eyes found Benny at the opposite end of the cafeteria, gaze focused on Dean from across the room.

 Dean took in the sight of Benny in a soft blue button-up, rolled up over thick forearms. He was leaning back casually in his chair, with his legs spread slightly, one booted foot propped up on his knee. He was sitting at a table with his sister and a group of other kids, but his eyes were for Dean only.

 He tore his gaze away from Benny and back down to his phone.

  **[Dean: you too. damn, but you look downright edible]**

 He looked up to see Benny check his phone, grin, and then look back up, one eyebrow raised.

  **[Benny: that so? hmmm i can think of a few places i'd like to feel that mouth of yours again ;)]**

 Dean stared as Benny's eyes darkened and stared right through him. He barely repressed a shudder at the heat in the older boy's eyes.

**[Benny: i do believe you liked that, didn't you? can you still feel me, darlin?]**

 Dean groaned, covering it with a cough as Jo and Charlie looked up from their conversation at him.

  **[Dean: yes]**

 He saw Benny roll his bottom lip under and back out.

**[Benny: god, the things i wanna do to you. i want you here in my lap, riding my cock. i bet you look fucking gorgeous like that baby.]**

 

Dean was so hard, trapped almost painfully in his jeans. He shifted in his seat, his eyes never leaving Benny's as the older boy moved his propped up foot back to the floor, and ran his hands teasingly up his thighs.

The next thing he saw was Charlie sticking her face in front of his, blocking his view of Benny.

“Winchester, stop eye-fucking in public.”

He glared at her, but he was snapping out of the daze that staring at Benny had put him in. He didn't look back, his face and neck burning and he put his phone back in his pocket.

They finished up lunch, tossed their trash, and gathered up their bags to leave. Dean was following the girls out of the cafeteria when he felt a hand on his lower back. He turned his head and found Benny next to him, laughter and heat in his eyes.

“Text me your address later darlin' I'm pickin' you up tomorrow. At five. I'll be thinking of you until then.”

 And then he was gone.

Charlie reached back and grabbed his hand, pulling him forward with a cheeky-ass smirk on her face.

 

\- - -

At three o'clock, Dean was reluctantly pushing his way through the double doors of the library. He walked in and heard Cas come out of his office with a crooked smile on his face.

Dean didn't return it.

He watched Cas' face fall.

“Dean....”

He sighed. “Cas...I seriously don't want to talk about last night. I just wanted to come in and see if you had anything for me to do tonight. And...I wanted to let you know that I'm not going to be able to make it to train with you tomorrow night. I...uh...Bobby asked me to help him...with some research. Is that ok?”

Cas tilted his head slightly, but then nodded. “I do have a quick patrol I would like for you to do, but that is it. Have the afternoon off from your studies.” He gave Dean a small smile and he gave him his best grin, the fakest one he owned.

“Alright Cas, I guess...I'll see you Monday then. Bye.”

He turned to leave and Cas reached out a hand and touched his shoulder. He stepped back from the touch, but turned to face the Watcher.

“Dean...I wish you would talk to me about what happened. I want you to know I care about you, very much. I'm so sorry if I hurt you. If there is any way I can make it up to you, make it better, tell me. Please, Dean.”

He shook his head. “I can't. I need to move on Cas. Please let me. That's what you can do.”

 

He walked away then, and didn't see the Watcher's shoulders hunch forward, all hopes dashed in one instant.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dean and benny's date :D  
> charlie gets dean to dress like a hipster.
> 
> also...i think charlie is my favorite character to write in this fic.

At 2:45 on Saturday afternoon, Dean found himself standing in his bedroom surrounded by what had to be every piece of clothing he owned. Jo was curled up on his bed looking at two different button-up shirts and Charlie was sitting at the edge of the bed, looking at him critically with a hand on her chin.  
   
Earlier that day Dean had been hanging out in the kitchen with Bobby and Sam eating a peach cobbler that one of their lady neighbors had brought. Dean was pretty sure that the woman was sweet on Bobby, but his Uncle was completely oblivious.  
   
He had been gearing up to tell Bobby about his date that night when the doorbell rang. He went to the door and had barely had his hand on the doorknob when it burst inwards, giving him little time to get out of the way. In the doorway had stood his two best friends, each with an armful of what looked like men’s magazines and evil grins on their faces.  
   
He had backed away from the door with fear in his eyes, shaking his head. “No.”  
   
They both squeezed through the entry together and Charlie had grinned wider. “Ohhh yes, Winchester . Oh yes.”  
   
Bobby had wandered into the open foyer and looked between Dean and the girls with a confused look. “Girls. What’s goin’ on?”  
   
“We’re here to make sure that Dean looks smokin’ hot for his date tonight. And he can’t stop us. We’re on a mission.” Charlie told Bobby, but her sparkling hazel eyes had been laser-focused on Dean.  
   
“No way. I can dress myself, thank you. I have been on a date before, FYI.” He’d looked at Bobby then and flushed. “I was just getting ready to tell you about it.”  
   
“What about training tonight? Aren’t you supposed to meet Cas around five?” Bobby asked.  
   
He had fidgeted. “I uh…I asked for the night off.”  
   
Bobby looked at him with surprise and he had known why. Dean’s favorite perk of having a Watcher was being able to throw down at least once a week and play with new toys. He had never missed an opportunity to train.  
   
He stuck his hands on his hips. “What? I can’t go out? Clark Kent got to have a job. I just want to go on a date.” He’d blustered, even though it was still true.  
   
Bobby gave him a strange smile. “So who’s the lucky girl?” His head had tilted to the side just slightly. “Or lucky guy?”  
   
Dean’s face had still been hot. “Benny. His name’s Benny.”  
   
Bobby had nodded. “Well, when’s he comin’ around?”  
   
He narrowed his eyes. Bobby had never been this interested in his dating life before. “Five. Why?”  
   
Bobby had laughed and walked back into the kitchen. “I just wanted to know what time I should be on the porch with my shotgun, princess.”  
   
Dean spluttered at his back as the girls had each wrapped an arm around one of his and hauled him upstairs.  
\- - -  
   
Bobby knew that Dean had dated a guy before, and he had been told about what had happened with Michael, so he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean’s date was a guy. He didn’t care about that.  
   
The only thing that he was wondering about was the fact that until yesterday Dean had seemed completely head over ass for the Watcher. He had seen the looks they gave each other, when they thought the other wasn’t looking, the way that they would manage to touch each other, brushing hands or bodies whenever they could without being obvious, or that they never ever missed the chance to be around each other.  
   
Bobby wasn’t a huge fan of the age difference, but whatever feelings they had been mutually ignoring between them had seemed genuine, and Dean had been different because of it, happy even.  
   
So what had changed?  
\- - -  
Dean put on the first of what looked like a hundred outfits that Charlie had picked out and walked out of the bathroom. When he stepped into his room Charlie whistled. She stuck out a hand and made a twirling motion. He crossed his arms and scowled. She repeated the motion and he huffed out a long-suffering sigh. He raised his arms up and moved in a circle. As he was completing the circle, music filled the room.  
   
 _“I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, I’m so sexy it huurts.”_  
   
His eyes went wide as Jo and Charlie giggled. “Dance!”  
   
“No frigging way.” He would not dance.  
   
Jo hooted. “Dance! Dance! Dance!”  
   
“No.” He scowled.  
   
Charlie looked at him with a pout. “But…montage.”  
   
They were so lucky that they were his friends. Otherwise there would be some serious axe murdering happening right now.  
\- -  
Ten minutes later he and the girls were dancing around his room to Right Said Fred singing about how sexy he was, pretending to walk the catwalk and throwing pouty exaggerated poses at each other, laughing so hard there were tears in their eyes.  
   
Dean completed a turn and executed a flawless Blue Steel look when he heard choked off laughter coming from his doorway.  
   
Bobby and Sam were standing there just fucking losing it.  
   
His face felt like it was on fire and he stomped to the bathroom. “Fuck you guys!” He slammed the door and heard the laughter volume explode.  
\- - -  
   
Dean had showered and dressed carefully in the winning outfit. It was…different than what he usually wore. The jeans were slim fitting with a slight boot cut and dark-washed blue. He had on a soft purple v-neck cardigan buttoned up over a heather grey tee, and a black blazer open on top of it all. He’d traded his usual scuffy brown boots for black leather ones with squared toes.  
   
He fussed over his hair, and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He looked good. He'd have to thank Charlie for her influence. He spritzed some cologne on for good measure and was putting his phone and keys in his pockets when the doorbell rang for the second time that day.  
   
His pulse sped and he wiped suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans. He’d never been picked up for a date before. And definitely hadn’t been on a date with someone after they had slept together first.  
   
Dean made his way down the stairs slowly and as he reached the bottom he took in the sight of Benny standing there with his hands in his pockets, talking with Bobby. He flicked his eyes over to Dean, looked him up and down lazily and grinned.  
   
“Hey there darlin’. You ‘bout ready to go?” Benny drawled. He nodded and returned his grin as he drew up in front of him.  
   
He turned to Bobby and said, “See ya later Bobby.”  
   
Bobby leveled a serious look at Benny. “You have him home by 11 now, y’hear?” Dean looked at him incredulously and he threw his head back and laughed. “I’m just fuckin’ with ya, Dean. Just go have fun, be safe.”  
   
Dean’s cheeks were still pink as he led a chuckling Benny outside. He drew up short with a gasp as he saw what was sitting in the driveway.  
   
“Benny….is this your truck?” He walked up slowly to the thing and ran a hand gingerly over the fender.  
   
“That she is. You like her?” Benny asked.  
He loved it. Obviously not as much as he loved his Baby, but Benny’s truck was a thing of beauty. It was a 1950 (he was pretty sure of the year) classic Ford F-3. It had gorgeous curves, a rounded school bus body with a horizontal bar grille and faded whitewall tires. If she was a little rusty looking, it only added to her charm. He was crouched down, running a fingertip around the edge of one of the headlamps when Benny huffed out a laugh.  
   
“Now if you don’t quit droolin’ over her I’m gonna get mighty jealous, darlin’.” His voice was closer at the end, lowering as Benny came up behind him.  
   
He stood, turned and Benny stepped closer, their bodies brushing as he raised a hand to cup his cheek softly. Benny leaned in and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to his lips. Dean opened his eyes and wondered when he had closed them.  
   
Benny chuckled, low. “I feel better now, wouldn’t want me to be jealous of a truck, would ya?”  
   
Dean laughed and kissed him again, just a quick press of lips, before pulling away. Benny led him over to the passenger door with a hand on his lower back and opened it for him.  
   
“God Benny, such a gentleman.” He laughed.  
   
Benny shrugged, a smile on his lips. “What can I say? I’m old-fashioned that way.”  
   
Dean slid into the cab onto the little bench seat. Benny got in on the other side, and they were sitting close to each other. He cranked up the engine and shifted gears, pulling out of Bobby’s long driveway and onto the road.  
\- - -  
The date turned out to be a picnic, and it was so far beyond what Dean had expected that he couldn’t help but find it terribly endearing. Benny could be a filthy bastard when he wanted to be, but it did truly seem like he was a gentleman, and was doing his best to woo Dean as charmingly as fucking possible.  
   
Benny had driven them out to a field about a half an hour outside of town and parked. He’d gotten out of the truck and reached in the back and pulled out an honest-to-God picnic basket. He had raised it and cocked an eyebrow at Dean. He went to the back end and lowered the tailgate, then patted it.  
   
Dean laughed and hopped up onto the cool metal. Benny set the basket down next to him and then moved in front of Dean, his hips pushing against his knees. Dean spread his legs and Benny slipped in, pressing himself against him, chest to chest. With his hands light on Dean’s hips he leaned in and kissed him again, tongue teasing at his lips until they parted. He pressed in harder and the kiss deepened, their lips sliding wetly against each other as they moved. Dean’s hands slid up Benny’s chest and around his neck, holding the older boy’s face against his.  
   
Benny’s hands squeezed his hips tightly for a brief second before he pulled away to look at Dean with eyes that were hazy with want.  
   
He kissed him once more, softly and pulled away again.  
   
He hopped up onto the tailgate himself and reached down to open the basket. Dean laughed with pleasure as he saw what was in it.  
   
Benny had packed them what looked like hoagies and thick cut potato chips. There were two cokes in glass bottles and Dean’s mouth watered at what was tucked into the corner at the very bottom.  
   
“You brought pie?” He laughed.  
   
“I told you I’d remember, darlin’.” Benny grinned at him, and he could swear he felt his heart melt a little.

  
\- - -

Around six in the evening, Castiel was pacing his living room, anxious, frustrated.

His attempt to mend what had happened with Dean on Friday had been rebuffed. Dean had asked him to let him move on. How exactly was he supposed to do that?

The next thing he knew he was pulling up to Bobby Singer's house. He looked around him...surprised a bit, at how he had gotten there without thinking about it.

Well, he was here now, wasn't he? Dean had said Bobby had asked him for help researching. Castiel could research. He was a librarian after all.

He walked up the front steps of the old house and rang the doorbell. Sam answered the door and yelled, "Bobby! Cas is here!"

Bobby walked out of the living room that also served as part of Bobby's personal library (if piles upon piles of books stacked on tables, the floor, even the windowsill counted as a library). There were none of the usual signs of research here, no books laid open, no laptop, no piles of paper and pizza boxes (Dean could never do research without food.) Bobby gave him a look, a questioning confusion on the man's face.

"Cas? What's up? Everything alright?"

Castiel was confused, too. He cast his eyes around, his ears straining to hear Dean's voice coming from somewhere in the house.

"Ah. Dean told me Friday afternoon that you had requested he help you with some research. I uh...I thought I might be of some assistance." He spoke hesitantly, expecting Dean to barrell around the corner and shoot daggers at him with one of his surly stares.

Curiously, Bobby groaned, rolling his eyes heavenward. "That stupid idjit." Castiel heard him mutter under his breath.

Bobby looked at him then, an awkward expression on his face as he shifted and rubbed the back of his neck. "Dean's not here Cas."

"Oh, did he go out for something?" No, that wasn't right. He had seen Dean's precious Baby in the driveway when he'd pulled up.

Sam burst into the room then, an armful of snacks and school books, and plopped down on the couch in front of the TV. "Dean's on a date."

His heart stopped.

"Dean is...on a..." He couldn't comprehend the words.

Sam, precocious Sam, spoke staring up at him as if he were very dense. "A date. With a guy named Benny. He's funny. He has a cool car."

He could feel his heart pounding, surprised it wasn't bursting out of his chest like he'd seen in one of the cartoons Dean watched when he was bored.

"O-oh. Yes, I see. In that case, I'll just...I'll just head on home then. Lovely to see you both. Goodnight." He was babbling as he backed away towards the door.

He ran for his car. When he had driven for several minutes, he stopped and pulled over on the side of the road.

He couldn't decide if he was furious or devastated more. Dean had lied to him. Lied to him about needing to help his uncle when he was really out with another man. Another man who likely had his hands on _his_ hunter right now.

Castiel hated liars. Samandriel had lied. Dean had lied.

He decided then. He was livid.

 

\- - -  
   
They had eaten and talked until Benny pulled out the pie. Then there was no more talking as Dean had inhaled his slice of sweet, flaky crust and luscious, thick apple filling. His eyes closed on a moan and he licked his fork.

\- -  
   
Benny watched the gorgeous boy raptly as his tongue flicked out to catch the last remnants of the pie and wanted him more than he thought possible. His hands clenched into fists as a soft moan reached his ears.  
   
He leaned over and took Dean’s face into his hands, turning him so that he could kiss him hungrily, licking the flavor of apples and cinnamon out of his mouth.  
   
He pulled back before he could get too heated. He wasn’t ready to get caught up in the rush of his lust, not yet anyway. He had had plenty of dates before, plenty of amazing dates, but this boy in front of him was something special, something different. He wanted to savor the anticipation building in his gut.  
   
He chuckled at Dean’s little grunt of disappointment and stroked his fingers against his cheek. “All in good time darlin’. Be patient for me.”  
\- -  
The sun was sinking slowly in the sky when Benny reached into another basket in the back and pulled out a thick, soft blanket and spread it out in across the bed of the truck. He scooted back onto the blanket and motioned for Dean to join him.  
   
They laid back on the blanket and Dean pillowed his head on Benny’s broad chest, felt his arm wrap around his back and hold him snugly against him.  
   
Holy shit.  
   
They had had a picnic, and now, he guessed, they were going to cuddle up on a blanket in the back of Benny’s beautiful truck and watch the stars come out. He felt like he was in a Nicholas Sparks movie (not that Dean had ever seen one…or cried while watching one. Nope.). It was kind of awesome, actually.  
\- -  
   
They laid there together and talked some more as the sky darkened and the night began to cool. Benny’s hand stroked up and down his arm and sides and Dean stretched a leg out and twined it with one of his. He felt Benny still and then his other hand reached down to rest on Dean’s thigh, his thumb working in small circles.  
   
He shuddered lightly against the older boy and pressed against his hip, feeling his cock slowly harden. Benny groaned and his fingers tightened on him before he raised one hand to tilt Dean’s head back so that he could claim his mouth.  
   
He rocked himself against Benny and moaned softly. Benny pulled away and he groaned at the loss.  
   
Benny climbed out of the back and stood at the end before reaching out and grabbing onto Dean’s ankles, pulling him forward until his ass was pressed against Benny’s groin and his legs were wrapped around his hips.  
   
He sat up still pressed against Benny and began unbuttoning his shirt just enough to shove his hands inside. Benny’s skin was cool, but firm and strong under his fingers and he leaned in to kiss and suck at his chest. He felt Benny’s groan vibrate against his lips and then the fingers of one hand digging into his hips. His other hand fisted in the hair on the back of his head, pulling him forward.  
   
A bruising kiss took his mouth, spreading his jaws wide as he felt Benny’s tongue stroke deep. He was pushed back and he propped himself up on his hands as fingers tore at his belt buckle, opening his jeans roughly and yanking them down his legs with his boxer briefs. Benny tossed them into the back of the truck and pulled him back.  
   
Dean gasped as he was pressed tightly against Benny’s thick, rock hard length trapped in his pants. Benny growled and closed his eyes, rocking his hips in a tight thrust against him. He reached down and undid Benny’s grey chinos as fast as he could, shoving them and his boxers down over his ass to pool at his feet.  
   
His eyes devoured the sight of Benny’s cock, the fat, wide crown and the pulsing shaft ridged with veins. Benny’s eyes rolled back into his head as he gripped it in his fist, squeezing down just tight enough, and swiped the pad of his thumb across the slit beaded already with pre-come.

“Fuck darlin’…those hands…” He groaned and opened his eyes. He slid his hands over Dean’s hipbones and one hand slipped around his cock. He stroked it gently, just barely enough friction to have Dean writhing and bucking into his fist.  
   
Dean ground out a moan as a thick finger nudged against his entrance. He wanted to press back into it, feel it push its way inside him.  
   
Benny’s hand tightened on his cock. “So fucking eager…you want somethin’ inside you don’t you? Tell me.” His voice was low and husky with hunger.  
   
“Oh God, Benny…please, yes. I want…want you inside. So deep inside.” He was moaning out the words, voice almost breathy.  
\- -  
Benny ground his hips hard against Dean. The boy begged so fucking pretty. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a slim bottle and a condom. Snapping open the bottle he poured some out onto his fingers.  
   
He slid slick fingers up Dean’s inner thigh, stroking until he could feel the tight, twitching ring of muscle at his fingertips. Dean’s legs spread wider, opening himself up. He looked up and watched his face as he pressed one finger slowly inside. The boy threw his head back and a throaty moan burst out of his mouth. Fuck. He wanted to shove himself inside that amazing heat. He stroked one finger in and out, feeling slick walls squeeze down around it. Dean’s voice gasped out, “More Benny…please more.”  
   
He wasn’t about to deny this gorgeous creature anything. Ever. He gently pressed a second finger into him, and groaned as Dean bucked back on both fingers inside him, and he felt his fingers being swallowed up by the hungry opening. Dean rocked his hips, fucking himself on Benny’s fingers until Benny caught up and began pumping his fingers faster.  
\- -  
Dean felt like he was flying on the high of the need riding him. The fingers inside of him, stretching him, felt so fucking good. He wanted more, now, harder…wanted Benny.  
   
“More please Benny…please harder. Want you so bad. Feels so fucking good.” He gasped out.  
   
A third finger pushed inside and he bucked against it, pushed his hips down hard and fast, showing Benny with his body what he wanted. The fingers crooked inside him, searching until they stroked hard over his prostate and he screamed. “Fuck!” Benny slammed his hand against him, fucking him open hard. He was moaning hard on every fast stroke in and he felt the heat pooling in his belly. He felt like he could come just from those fingers alone.  
   
“Benny….want your cock now. Please…please…please…want to come on your cock so bad.”  
\- -  
Benny was fucking lost, feeling wild with the need to be inside the tight hole stretched around his fingers. He yanked his fingers out and tore the condom open with his teeth, slicking it over his length and pouring out more lube onto his hand, stroking himself once, twice. He needed. Fuck he needed.  
   
He pulled Dean up and crashed his lips to his wet, open, moaning mouth. He took the thick bottom lip into his mouth and bit down until the boy screamed. They kissed hungrily, tongues battling and he took his cock in his hand, lining it up and shoved inside.  
   
Dean screamed out hoarsely and threw his head back again. Benny held onto his desire to fuck into him with abandon long enough to let him adjust. He felt Dean rock his hips, taking him deeper into the slick, clenching heat.  
   
He gripped onto Dean’s hips and slid himself out, out, until only the throbbing head of his cock was left inside. He slammed back in and set a brutal pace of fucking in and out, so hard, so fast, he was almost afraid he was being too rough until Dean’s legs wrapped tighter around him and he saw the boy’s body spread over the blanket, face slack with pleasure, fingers fisted in the fabric.  
\- -  
It was so fucking good. Raw sounds were being ripped out of his throat as he lost track of everything besides the thick cock pounding into him. The hard metal of the truck bed was bruising on his hips, but the pain only made it better, burn hotter.  
   
His breath caught as what felt like the biggest orgasm of his life built and built, his body tightening around Benny’s, clenching and shuddering around the slick slam of his thrusts. He canted his hips up slightly and keened out a wail as the heavy ridge of Benny’s cock brushed over his prostate, over and over and over.  
   
Benny’s hand rucked his shirts up and slid over his chest until it found one of his nipples. He whimpered hard as fingers pinched down tight on the tight nub of his flesh. They tugged and pulled, twisting, and he screamed.  
   
“Fuck Benny! Oh fuck! I’m gonna….oh shit I’m gonna fucking come!” He was sobbing out his moans, and he felt Benny fuck into him even harder.  
   
“Dean….fuck darlin’. Come now for me, baby.” He felt a slick hand fist around his painfully hard, leaking cock and stroke him fast. “I got you, Dean. Let it go, baby.”  
   
He cried out and clenched down tight around Benny still thrusting inside him and came hard, shooting his release over Benny’s hand and their stomachs pressed together. Benny slammed into him once, twice more before his hands gripped his hips so hard they would be bruised tomorrow, crying out hoarsely as he emptied himself inside of him.  
   
Benny thrust his softening cock into him for another minute until he collapsed his upper body over Dean’s, their breaths heavy and panting. He nosed at his ear and kissed his neck, sucking on sweat-slick skin as he slid himself out of his fucked out hole.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Dean…” he groaned. Dean huffed out a laugh and wrapped his arms around Benny’s back.  
   
When they could both move again, Benny gently peeled the condom off and tucked it into the wrapper, tossing it toward the picnic basket full of their dinner trash. He climbed up into the back of the truck and helped Dean scoot back so that he could stretch out bonelessly. He handed him his discarded clothes and Dean groaned at the ache he felt as he sat up to pull the jeans and underwear up his legs and over himself. He didn’t bother to zip and button up yet. He just wanted to lay there and feel everything rolling over him in sweet waves. Benny laid back down and pulled Dean over to lay against him like they had been before.  
   
They laid there and relearned how to breath, not talking, just holding onto each other. Dean’s eyelids felt heavy and the next thing he knew, Benny was nudging him awake, a gentle hand on his face.  
   
“I think it’s time for me to get you home darlin’, much as I’d love to lay here and sleep with you, a truck bed ain’t no place to do it.” He looked at Dean tenderly as he stroked his cheek.

He leaned in and kissed Benny, deep and long, until Benny was pulling away with a laugh. They gathered up the blanket and the picnic basket and slid into the cab. Benny started the truck up and pulled Dean up against his side as he drove with Dean's hand stroking gently on his thigh.

They got back to Bobby's house and they kissed again. Benny looked at him then.

“Darlin', I don't know what it is about you, but I want more of it, whatever it is. Tonight was one of the best nights I've had in too long.” Benny's voice was low, almost a whisper.

He leaned in a pressed his forehead against the older boy's and whispered, “Me too, Benny, me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> benny's truck: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v210/rustytoo/48F-147Bill-Bob007.jpg


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys "talk" it out.  
> to give you an idea of what this chapter is about, consider the song that was in my head when i wrote it.  
> Kiss With a Fist by Florence + the Machine
> 
> ayup. 
> 
> this is the end of part 2. part 3 will pick up about a month later in the story. (whoops i lied, chapter 17 is the last chapter of pt 2)

 

One week after his date with Benny, Dean was anxiously pulling up to Cas' house for their weekly training session.

 

The morning after his date, he'd gone downstairs for some breakfast and found Bobby sitting at the table drinking coffee.

 

“Cas showed up here last night.” He said plainly. Dean paled.

 

“Said you told him you'd be here researching.” Dean hung his head. “Why didn't you tell him about your date, Dean?”

 

Dean got angry then.

 

“Because Bobby. Because I was fucking in love with him and he said he didn't want me! Not yet anyway! I can't sit around for months and pretend that there might be a chance of something! What if he decides I'm too immature, too stupid, too... What if he leaves? What if he leaves me Bobby?”

 

Bobby's arms had been around him then and he was flat-out fucking sobbing on his Uncle's shoulder.

 

Bobby hadn't brought it up again.

\- -

School had been another story altogether.

 

Dean and Benny usually met up in the mornings after he dropped Sammy off and they would kiss and fool around and talk behind the greenhouse. Dean would then go find Charlie and Jo and they'd go to class.

 

They ate lunch that Monday in the library, but Cas had acted so coldly to him that the girls felt uncomfortable. They ate in the cafeteria after that.

 

Benny never ate with him, but they would sit, the wide expanse of the room between them, and they would make ridiculous eye contact the entire time. Sometimes Benny would text him filthy things to make him squirm. Other times he texted sweet things that made Dean squirm, for different reasons.

 

His afternoon study sessions were spent alone, with increasingly difficult material stacking up on the table each day.

 

As righteous as he had felt about the decision he'd made to not tell Cas about his date, he couldn't help but feel a little like he was being punished for it.

\- -

Castiel had been furious all week long.

 

Every time he looked at Dean he wanted to tear into him, hold him down and demand to know what he had done with the other man. In detail. Wanted to know why he'd lied.

 

Tuesday morning he had come into the school late and had seen Dean pressed up against the wall of one of the school's outbuildings, his head stretched back and a boy he had seen around school pushed between his parted legs, his mouth sucking on his neck. Later that day when Dean had come into the library, he could see the mark faintly and briefly considered murder.

 

He was setting up for their training session when Dean came around the back of the house, hands in his pockets and an I-don't-care grin on his face.

 

“Hello, Dean.” He was fighting not to slam the boy up against his house and take him. Burn the mark of the other boy off of his skin, leave his own marks in their place. Claim him forever.

 

“Hey, Cas. So uh...what are we training with today? Can we try out that mace finally?” Dean had the bloody fucking nerve to grin.

 

“No, Dean. We will be sparring today, and I will show no mercy. Do not expect an easy fight.” He said as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up. Castiel had a week's worth of anger buzzing inside of him, it would feel good to exorcise some of it physically.

 

Dean had paled slightly, but he shrugged and began pulling off his coat and putting his bag down against the wall.

 

They both stepped onto the training mat and looked at each other from across the circle. Dean cocked an eyebrow and Castiel wanted to punch it off of his face.

 

They fought. They fought so hard that they both had bloody scratches and bruises on their knuckles. They were panting, sweat soaking through their clothes, and still they fought.

 

Castiel went down after Dean threw a punch to his kidney. He laid there for a minute, waiting.

\- -

 

Dean saw Cas lying on the mat, seeming not to move. Concerned, he walked over, getting ready to crouch down and check on the Watcher.

 

Suddenly he was down, flat on his back. Cas had footswept him as he'd approached. Bastard.

 

Cas was on him then. Shoving his body down hard between his outstretched legs, pinning him with his entire body from chest to groin.

 

He lifted his hands to push Cas away when his wrists were slammed down painfully against the mat.

 

Cas was snarling. His eyes were wild, furious. His chest heaving against him.

 

Dean was afraid.

 

“How dare you fucking lie to me Dean? No matter what was or wasn't between us, I am your Watcher, dammit! Do not fucking lie to me.”

 

Dean groaned as Cas thrust his hips against him. He could feel the hard press of him against him and he willed his own cock not to rise to the occasion.

 

Cas leaned down then, his mouth against his ear. “And do not ever fucking lie to me, and then go out and fuck someone else.” He shivered, his body unable to fight the reaction.

 

But internally he was fucking pissed.

 

He burst up from where Cas' hold on his wrists had loosened, flipping them over so that he was straddling the Watcher's waist. He slammed a fist into his face.

 

“You don't get to be fucking possessive now! You don't get to push me away time after time and expect me to just be there waiting for you to hurt me again. I needed to move on and that's what I fucking did.” He landed another punch. “I found someone who wants me!” He shouted at Cas' face.

 

Castiel grabbed him around the waist and they toppled back over, struggling for dominance in a fight that neither of them could figure out how to finish.

\- -

 

“I fucking want you, you bloody fool.” Castiel sagged against the heaving body underneath him.

 

But Dean was right. He had pushed him away without an explanation. Hurt him. He had no one to blame but himself.

 

He sat up then, avoiding Dean's face. He stood from the mat and began to walk towards the house.

 

“I am sorry, Dean. I never meant to hurt you, only protect you.” He paused.

 

“We will not spar again like this Dean. I will acquire some training equipment. I do not trust myself in such close proximity with you again.”

 

He walked inside, defeated, leaving a speechless hunter sitting on the training mat.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dean has a panic attack, benny is cuddly and awesome, we find out about michael, charlie does some ass-kicking, and then there is fluffy, fluffy smut to make everyone feel better (i hope :3)
> 
> *warning...there is some strong language in this chapter, and minorly graphic (i couldnt go too in detail without feeling yucky) depictions of blackmail/non-con sex and violence. brief mention of drug abuse/overdose and attempted suicide*
> 
> things get better after this...i promise, don't leave me yet!

 

Cas had left him sitting on the bloody training mat after his declaration, and Dean didn't know what to do.

Of course Cas _would_ figure out that he wanted him as soon as he found something that made him feel good and safe.

But their fight, the wild, possessive look in Cas' eyes as he had spat at him about going and fucking someone else had triggered painful memories that weren't old enough by far.

He scrambled up off the mat and ran for his car, barely stopping to grab his coat and bag from the ground. He dived into the seat and wrapped his hands tight around the steering wheel until his fingers ached from his grip and his knuckles were white. He was hyperventilating.

He heard a low, raw sound pierce the silence of the car and he realized it was coming from him.

He jerked the car into gear and drove. He didn't know where to go. Fuck. He needed someone to talk him down from his panic.

Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit the call button, he didn't fucking care who answered but he needed someone to.

A rough voice broke over the speaker. “Dean, baby? I can hear you breathing. What's wrong, darlin'?”

He almost sobbed in relief. _Benny._ “Benny....” his voice was pleading. “Benny, I need you. I need to see you, please.”

“I can meet you at your house in ten minutes. I don't know what's wrong, but please hold on for me.”

Dean hung up and dropped the phone on the seat as he drove, tears threatening to spill. But he wouldn't cry, not yet. He wanted to be in Benny's arms before he broke. He could wait.

\- -

Benny pulled into the driveway in front of Dean's house. He was worried. His...boyfriend (they hadn't defined anything yet, but he knew what _he_ wanted) had called him, clearly distraught, and he was afraid to find out what was wrong.

Dean was sitting in the front seat of his car, hunched over the wheel, his breathing erratic. He walked up to the driver's side door and opened it. He could hear Dean frantically repeating something. “Michael...he can't hurt you anymore. Can't hurt you, can't hurt you, can't hurt you. Cas.....” Who were Michael and Cas? If they had hurt Dean....

Benny pushed aside the pounding of blood lust in his veins and leaned over to pull Dean around in his seat, so that his legs were hanging out of the open door. His face was bruised and his knuckles were cut up. He crouched down in front of him and cupped both of his cheeks, fingers stroking as he spoke. “Dean, darlin', please. I'm here baby. Tell me what happened. Who hurt you?”

Dean's eyes snapped up to his, green and wild. He sucked in a huge breath and threw himself into Benny's arms. Benny held him and stroked his back and hair as he cried.

\- -

Twenty minutes later Dean's crying had stopped and he was just holding onto him, fingers fisted in the front of his shirt. Benny scooped him up in his arms, carrying him from the car to the front door to the house. He hit the doorbell and a tall boy (Dean's brother, he thought) answered. The boy's face looked panicked at the sight of Dean in his arms, looking beaten and bloody.

“Bobby! Something's wrong with Dean!” The boy yelled, and the man he had met before, Bobby, hurried into the entryway.

Benny pushed into the house, carefully holding onto Dean. At Bobby's look he said, “I don't know what's wrong. He called me about ten minutes ago, he sounded like he was freakin' out. I got here and found him sitting in his car saying somethin' like 'Michael can't hurt you', and then the name Cas.”

Bobby's face hardened and he all but growled. “That bastard. Cas is...a good friend of Dean's and if he's reacting this way, something happened between them to trigger a panic attack. Dean....well, when he's ready to tell you, he'll tell you. But basically, Michael was an abusive, manipulative son of a bitch and Dean barely got away from him alive.”

Benny saw red then, and his arms tightened around the broken boy. He had a feeling that this “Cas” was the one that had sent Dean running in Benny's direction in the first place. What had happened between them to cause this?

“Can I take him to his bedroom, lay him down? I wanna sit with him. I want him to know I'm there, here, for him.” Bobby nodded, and motioned up the stairs.

“First door on the right. Its good that you're here, Benny. He hasn't been through one'a these in a long time, but its good that he has you to get him through it.” Bobby squeezed his arm.

He would be around for Dean as long as he wanted him. This boy was _his_ now, and he wanted to take care of him in any way that he needed.

\- -

Dean came to with Benny wrapped around him, laying on his bed, his fingers gently carding through his hair and stroking his face. He felt drained.

He looked up with eyes that felt like they were gritty with sand. Benny's voice was soft, his face full of concern. He smiled gently. “Welcome back, darlin'. You had me worried there.” His hand rubbed up and down his back as he pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You want to talk about it?”

Dean opened his mouth to spill everything when there was a knock at the door. The door pushed inward and Charlie stuck her head in. Her face was stricken when she saw him and he reached out a hand for her.

She hurried over to the bed and took his hand, kissing him on the forehead like Benny had. He felt so helpless, but their arms, their hands, anchored him.

“Dean....Honey....Bobby called me, said you might need me. What happened? Was it Cas?” She flicked her eyes to Benny, as if not wanting to reveal anything.

He sat up and motioned for Benny to sit back against the headboard. When he was in place, Benny pulled him onto his lap, tucked his head under his chin. Charlie moved and sat next to Benny so that Dean could see her.

He took a deep breath. Picked at the sleeve of Benny's shirt. “Yeah...we had a....fight. A bad one. We beat on each other pretty hard.” He looked up at Charlie. “I guess he found out about Benny...and....he was mad, jealous.”

Charlie's eyes darkened in anger and he kept going before he lost his nerve. “I told him he didn't have any right to be possessive anymore. He walked away...but....the fight, the things he said...I...I get panic attacks sometimes. After Michael...After what happened.”

Their hands on him were soothing. They didn't push him to talk, waited until he was ready.

\- - -

Seven months ago Dean had been as close to happy as he could possibly get even though Aaron had left for college in January, right before Dean turned 17. The goodbye hadn't been easy, but they were planning on staying in touch. He had two amazing, supportive friends in Rhonda and Gabe.

Dean had gotten back from a hunt late one Monday morning in March. He had called Sammy at the little house they had been renting and told him to get himself to school. Dean drove straight to the high school and dragged his aching body to the boys locker room to shower.

He had thought of Aaron as the hot water beat against his skin, missing him and missing the sex, and after he'd looked around to make sure there was no one in the locker room, he decided to indulge in a little bit of fantasy. He was stroking himself, touching himself, and just about to come when he'd moaned out Aaron's name.

He heard a haughty laugh ring out from behind him and he'd whipped around, covering himself. Michael, the high school's football captain and golden boy, was standing there, arrogant face twisted in a sneer.

“I knew it Winchester. I knew you were a fag. What I didn't know was that you were a fucking fag who takes it.” The older boy's voice was deep and he walked into the showers, crowding Dean back into the corner.

He was naked and it was damn hard to fight someone when you're naked. But he tried. Dean was broader in the shoulders and huskier than the other boy, but Michael was wiry with hard muscle, and slightly taller.

Dean also hadn't expected a guy who had just called him a fag to grab his cock.

His fingers had squeezed tight, painfully, digging into oversensitive flesh as he pressed his slim body against Dean's and leaned in to bite down on his earlobe hard. “I bet your daddy doesn't know that you let guys fuck you. I wonder what he'd say?” The voice was soft, but the words were cutting.

Dean and Aaron had kept their relationship secret from everyone but Rhonda, Gabe, and one or two of Aaron's friends. They lived in small, Midwestern towns that were far from progressive. Neither had wanted to risk what could happen if people found out. And John, God....his father was a man's man, faithful Marine, hard ass. What would he say if he found out his eldest son was gay?

His pulse had sped up. What the hell? Was this guy going to try to blackmail him? He choked and sputtered as Michael brought up two fingers and shoved them in his mouth. “Does Daddy Winchester know how much you like sucking dick? Those lips of yours are perfect for it I bet.” The fingers slid deep into his mouth, making him gag.

“This is what's going to happen Winchester. You're going to be my bitch, and you'll do what I want, when I want, or I tell everyone you've ever met that you're a fag. I'll make sure that your life is a living hell, and believe me, I can do it. And,” the fingers on his cock squeezed so hard that he yelped. “If you try to tell anyone, _anyone_ , about me, you will regret it forever.”

He released Dean and shoved him back into the wall hard enough that he hit, and slid down the wall in a heap.

Michael turned and walked a few feet away. He spoke over his shoulder. “No one would believe you anyway. You're just a troublemaker who's only friends are other deviants. I run this place, everyone thinks I'm the perfect angel.” He smirked.

He walked over to where Dean's clothes were piled up and slipped his phone from his jeans. He tapped into it and then threw it back down. “Answer when I call, or text. If you keep me waiting, I have a video of you now on my phone fucking yourself like a whore and moaning out some dude's name.”

He left then without another word, and Dean's life went from mostly-happy to a nightmare in the space of an hour.

\- -

Michael had texted him for the first time three days later. Told him to meet him in the locker room at lunch time.

Dean had been nervous, the locker room in the middle of the afternoon was too risky. Too many chances of being caught.

But he went. And hated himself for giving in.

When he walked into the locker room, Michael had been leaning up against the wall of lockers with his hands in his pockets, stupid fucking sneer in place as he watched Dean come forward with hooded grey-blue eyes. When Dean got close enough, he reached out, grabbed the hair on the back of his head and shoved him roughly down to his knees on the hard tile floor.

“Let's get something straight, bitch. You're here for me. I'm not going to kiss you, and I sure as fuck don't care if you get off. If you get off, its because I'm making you. Got it?”

Dean nodded, gritting his teeth.

The fingers tightened in his hair, pulling so hard Dean thought he'd have patches of it ripped out. “Another thing. If I ever find out you fucked someone else, I will hurt you. You belong to me.”

\- -

Dean had skipped out of the rest of his classes for the day and drove home, his jaw and throat raw and aching. He'd thrown up in the bushes outside the front door.

That night he went out, got wasted, and got in a fight. He had had no control over what had happened that day, but he could control a fight. He could control how his fists smashed into another body, how his body took blows, and it felt good.

\- -

As April had begun, it had been over a month that Michael had continued to blackmail him, and he had been cruel about it. He never stopped talking while he...used Dean. He beat him when the mood struck, and he'd reasoned that no one would question it, because Dean always came into school beat up. Most of the time he didn't hit him where anyone could see.

Gabriel and Rhonda had noticed something different in him. He'd been withdrawn at times, explosively angry and defensive at others. When Rhonda had tried to set him up on dates he had lied and said he wasn't feeling up to dating.

One weekend, Dean and Gabe had been hanging out at the local diner when his friend had finally had enough of the way he'd been acting. He'd demanded to know what was wrong.

The pure fury on Gabriel's face when he'd told him about Michael was fearsome to behold. He looked like he could smite someone with a snap of his fingers, and maybe that someone would be Michael.

The next day, Gabriel told him that he had a plan to get Dean away from Michael, and make him regret ever fucking with his friend. He'd begged him not to do anything, more afraid of Michael when he was angry than he would be taking on an entire pack of werewolves.

\- -

One week later, Michael had found gay porn magazines in his locker. He'd beaten Dean for it.

A week after that, it was anal beads draped over the rear-view mirror of his car.

It went on and on; Michael getting anonymous text messages from gay dating services, gay porn pop-ups on his computer, emails responding to a craigslist ad for no-strings gay sex.

The more Gabriel screwed with Michael, the more Michael took it out on Dean. He had sworn up and down that it wasn't him, but Michael had told him that it was either him, or he had told someone about him, and either way he was going to pay for it.

\- -

Three weeks before the end of school, Gabriel had decided to put the plan into play that would end up with Dean's life in tatters.

Michael had moved most of their...activities to one of the sports storage rooms next to the football field. It was more secluded, and he could make Dean scream as loud as he wanted to and no one would be the wiser.

One night around six, he had told Dean to meet him there. When he'd arrived Michael began by forcefully fucking his face, until he was choking and saliva was streaming from the corners of his lips. He'd then shoved him down face first onto the ground and pushed himself inside Dean's body with nothing more than a little spit to ease the burning pain.

He'd been fucking into him brutally for about five minutes when the door to the storage room burst open and a group of Michael's teammates strolled in. They had gaped and Michael had thrown himself off of Dean, shouting for them to get the fuck out.

\- -

Dean woke up the next day in the hospital. His nose was broken, he had two broken ribs and one of his lungs had been punctured.

The doctor's had told him that he was lucky to be alive. He had been found in the storage room unconscious, beaten, and they had found a significant hematoma bleeding into his brain.

Then the cops had come. They were small-town, simple cops, and they wouldn't have believed him if he'd told them the truth. He said he'd gotten into a fight with some guy, couldn't remember his name or what he'd looked like.

Gabriel and Rhonda had visited him. When Rhonda left, Gabe had stayed and the look on his face said everything Dean had needed to know. But then he'd opened his mouth and confessed the whole thing.

He had sent out a text using Michael's number to his teammates, telling them to meet him at the storage room and that there would be a keg and girls. He'd wanted to give Michael a taste of his own medicine; if he was going to blackmail Dean for being gay, he would out _him_ in the worst way possible.

Dean had told him to get out. He didn't want to see his face again.

\- -

Once Dean was able to go back to school, he had been called down to the principal's office. When he got there, all the things that Gabriel had left or sent Michael were laying on the desk .

The blood had run cold in his veins.

They had told him that Michael had filed a complaint of sexual harassment against him. He'd claimed that Dean had come on to him, and when he'd turned him down, had persisted by sending him lewd text messages, pornographic materials, emails, and even nude pictures of himself.

Ironically, Michael _had_ confessed to beating him, but had used the excuse that he was driven to the breaking point by Dean's harassment and had snapped when he'd cornered him in the storage room.

Dean was expelled from school. No one would listen to his side of the story.

When his father had found out about his expulsion he'd been furious. But to Dean's utter surprise, when he'd told the story of what happened, John had cried, horrified that Dean had let himself suffer what Michael had done to him because he was afraid of what John would think of him if he knew.

\- -

Gabriel had let Dean take the blame for his actions, but had felt so guilty over it that he had tried to kill himself by overdosing on some of his father's pain medication. He had been sent out of state to a treatment facility, and Dean hadn't heard from him again.

\- - -

Charlie was crying by the time he was done with his story and he could feel wet tracks on his face from his own tears. He looked up at Benny for the first time since he'd begun to talk, afraid of what he'd see in the older boy's face. Would he be disgusted? Would he find Dean damaged goods and throw him away?

What he saw stopped the breath in his chest. There was a furious look in his eyes, his jaw was clenched tight. He raised one hand slowly to Dean's face and pulled him in for a fierce kiss.

Dean looked up and found them alone in the room, Charlie must have left when Benny had kissed him. He moved back to his lips and kissed him again, deep, hungry.

When they parted, Benny leaned his forehead against Dean's and whispered roughly. “I need you to know that I will _never_ hurt you like that baby. I swear it. I love you Dean.”

He was crying again. Jesus, what was with the fucking waterworks tonight? But wait, had Benny said....

“You _love_ me? Why?” He had no idea why anyone would love him. He was a fucking mess.

“You listen to me Dean Winchester. I love you. I love you, because you are worth lovin'. Strong and beautiful, and you have the biggest heart of anyone I have ever met. You try to hide it from the world, and now I think I know why. But dammit, you aren't going to hide from me anymore. I want everything you have to offer darlin'. There is nothin' about you that would make me not want you.” His voice was steady, strong, and Dean could hear the truth in ever single word.

\- - -

Castiel was a mess. He had gone back into his house after the train-wreck of a training session and immediately poured himself a Scotch. He hadn't stopped pouring since.

When he heard the knock on the door, his stupid fool heart leaped in his chest, hoping it was Dean.

He opened the door to find Charlie on his front step, a terrifying look on her face, her red hair nearly crackling with energy. She strode into his house and he stepped back away from her. Had Dean told her what had happened? What was she doing here?

She stopped in front of him then. He was about to ask her what was going on when her arm cocked back and the next thing he knew he was sat on his ass on the floor, jaw blossoming in pain.

“You are so fucking stupid! Do you have any idea, any idea what you did to him? He loved you, dammit, and you treated him like a child. You don't get to be jealous when he finally moves on.” She was shouting at him.

What on earth? She seemed far more angry at him than he thought he deserved. “Charlie....If you're talking about the fight we had this afternoon...I lost my temper, yes...I'm jealous. But...”

Her voice was cold then. “Maybe, if you had talked to him...just once, about what he wanted, you would have known that he wanted _you_. Not just sex. He wanted you to love him. Maybe, if you had talked to him, you would have known that the last “relationship” he was in, he was being blackmailed and abused by someone who only used him for sex. You might have figured out that _he_ uses sex to hide himself from being vulnerable. He let himself be vulnerable with you, and you broke his heart."

Her expression was disgusted. "I hope it fucking eats you alive.”

Castiel watched her leave in horror.

Oh God, what had he done?

\- - -

Benny's arms were tight around his back and he had pulled him around so that he was straddling his hips. Dean wanted him so much. He leaned in and licked a stripe of wet heat up Benny's neck. Benny groaned softly and his hands came down on his hips. With a desperate need to feel Benny's skin against him he ground his hips down into his lap, and he felt his semi-hard cock slide against Benny's. He whimpered as Benny's hands slid under his shirt, making him shiver as they roamed up his back.

Benny crashed their mouths together and they kissed hard as Dean rutted against him, his hands on Benny's shoulders as he pushed him back into the headboard.

\- -

Benny pulled his head back. His hands coming up to rest on Dean's chest. The boy was frantic with need, the need to bury the painful memories in sex. He wanted to take him, ride the wave that was preparing to crash down around them both, but he wanted Dean aware. He wanted him there, in the bed with him, not lost in his own head screaming.

He pushed Dean away gently, raising his hands to frame his face so that he couldn't run. “Darlin' there is nothin' more than I want than to be with you right now. But I need you here with _me_. I want to make love to you Dean. Come back to me and let me make love to you.”

Tears slipped down of the boy's face and the bright, wild look left his eyes. He collapsed in Benny's arms and when he had his arms wrapped around him again he could feel shuddering breaths wracking his body.

“Benny...please. I'm here. I'm here...please don't say no now.” His voice sounded so lost and Benny wanted to destroy the people who had caused this amazing boy pain. He'd known it before this, but there would never be a time when he would want to say no to him. He would gladly be lost forever if it meant that he could hold on to Dean while he did it.

\- -

Benny shifted and laid him back on the bed. He ranged himself over Dean's body and pressed his lips to his eyelids, his forehead, covering his face in sweet, tiny kisses. He carefully pulled Dean's shirts off and ran his hands over the bruises. His mouth followed his hands, kissing his chest.

When Dean reached out to pull Benny's shirt over his head, his hands were pressed softly back into the mattress. “Let me take care of you, darlin'.” Benny whispered against his mouth before he kissed him.

They would need to be quiet since Bobby and Sam might still be in the house. He didn't know how long they had been upstairs. But it felt so good, and he moaned into Benny's mouth as hands slid down his stomach and began pulling his belt off and fingers tugged at his zipper as it was pulled down.

Benny moved far enough away to slip his hands down the back of his jeans, cupping his ass softly before moving, pulling the clothes down and off of his legs.

When Dean was bare before him, Benny lowered himself against his body, pressing against his heated skin. Dean was so hard, and the friction of Benny's pants rubbing against his cock set his nerves on fire.

Benny kissed down his body once more, taking his time to lick and nip and suck at Dean's nipples until tiny, mewling sounds were slipping out of his mouth.

He sucked in a huge gasp of air as he felt Benny's mouth brush over his cock. A wet tongue licked at the crown, running teasingly under the rim until he was writhing against the sheets. Benny flattened his tongue and licked from the base of his length to the tip, slowly, before taking his cock into his mouth. He cried out, hands fisting in the bedcovers.

Benny slid the hard length of him in and out of his mouth until he was bucking up into the wetness surrounding him.

“Benny please! Please no more! Want you inside so badly.” He was barely holding back the moans he wanted to let loose.

Dean watched from where he lay on the bed as Benny pulled off of him with a soft pop and sat up, pulling his clothes off. He looked back at Dean sheepishly. “I uh...I didn't bring nothin' with me darlin'.”

He huffed out a laugh and pointed to his bedside drawer. He laughed again when Benny opened the drawer, saw what was inside, and gave him raised eyebrows. “Mmm....Baby we are gonna have to play with those sometime.” Dean's face flushed. He had a collection of toys (most courtesy of Rhonda, thank you very much) as well as a flogger and a set of leather cuffs.

Benny grabbed a condom and the bottle of lube and got back onto the bed, pressing his body against him again, the sensation of their skin sliding together threw Dean's head backwards and his back arched up slightly.

He heard the uncapping of a bottle and his eyes opened to find Benny's locked on his face as wet fingers pressed against his hole. He moaned softly and pushed against them, the tip of one finger sliding inside. Benny groaned and dropped his head to kiss Dean as he pressed the finger in slowly, up to the knuckle. He worked the thick digit into his tight, slick heat and Dean didn't even have to beg before another finger was sliding in beside it, stretching him open as they scissored inside him. His cock was so hard against his body, smearing pre-come along his stomach and he was panting.

Benny crooked the fingers inside him and brushed over his sweet spot and he gasped. When the fingers began fucking steadily into him, sliding over that spot over and over again, a hand covered his mouth and he let go. He moaned freely, knowing that Benny would muffle them as much as possible.

He whimpered as the fingers slid out of him, but when he opened his eyes, Benny was rolling the condom on and slicking himself up. He gripped onto Benny's hips and pulled him in, eyes fluttering closed as he felt the blunt head stretch him open wider than his fingers had. Benny pressed in until he was sheathed fully inside him and he paused, sliding his hands under Dean's knees and hooking his legs over his shoulders.

He pulled himself back, and leaned down to kiss him when he slid back in. Dean was essentially bent in half, and the angle was sharp and so _so_ good. He cried out and Benny ate the sounds from his mouth with hungry lips and tongue.

The pace steadily increased, but stayed gentle and gliding. Dean hadn't been with anyone since Michael, and the only way that he had known from him had been hard, brutal, painful. Dean tried to slam his hips back onto Benny, but with his legs over his shoulders, he had no leverage. He began whimpering in frustration, he needed it hard, only deserved it hard.

\- -

Benny could see that the steady, easy pace was making Dean uncomfortable. He was so accustomed to being used like a toy and Benny wanted to show him what it felt like to be loved instead. But he knew that Dean needed something else, too.

His hands on the boy's hips tightened. “Look at me, Dean.” There was a clear command in his voice. When he was looking into desperate green eyes he said, “Let me give this to you, darlin'. You deserve this. Tell me you think you deserve this, Dean.”

Dean turned his face into the bed, hiding his tears. Benny never slowed his careful thrusting, but reached out and turned that face back to him. “Tell me, Dean.” His voice was firm.

“I...I deserve....fuck, Benny! Please!” His voice was wrecked, straining.

Benny adjusted his hips so that on every thrust, he was sliding over Dean's prostate. When boy cried out he purposely avoided that spot again. “Tell me. Tell me you deserve to be loved, Dean.”

Dean was crying now, “Benny......I...deserve to be....oh God, I deserve....to be....loved. Benny!” The words came out in pieces, but it was all he needed.

He thrust in just slightly harder, finding the right angle to hit that sweet spot, and rode Dean's bucking body down into the mattress.

Dean was sobbing out moans, and Benny never wanted them to stop. When his breaths turned gasping Benny slammed into Dean, his own orgasm chasing up his spine. “Come for me, darlin'. Come on now.”

Dean's face screwed up and he screamed out loud as he came, clenching down on his cock like a vice, dragging him over the edge along with him.

\- -

They laid against the rumpled bedding and breathed. Dean began to cry again, his eyes burning with what he was trying not to feel, and then he felt Benny's arms circle him, lips kissing him, fingers stroking the tears from his face, and he curled into the strength of his body.

When Dean the last of his tears fell and his breathing slowed, Benny shifted them up to the head of the bed, grabbing someone's shirt and wiping them both off. He slid the covers over them then, pulling Dean to rest his back against his chest.

As Dean was drifting off to sleep, he whispered. “I love you, too, Benny.”

He was asleep before he felt the lips pressed to his shoulder curving into a smile.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dean finds out something new about benny. charlie remains awesome.

 

In the weeks following Dean and Cas' fight, his breakdown, and he and Benny's confessions, things got...well, maybe _better_ wasn't the right word, but they did get different.

 

Dean had gone into school that Monday after everything and tried to act as normally as possible.

 

Cas had finally told him that he at least felt _something_ for him and Benny....well, they had both said 'I love you's.

 

Dean's guts were still squirmy about it, too. He had never told anyone...maybe other than Sammy, that he loved them. He had been riding the high of sweet endorphins from their...lovemaking...and it had slipped out. He did really _really_ like Benny, but he was kind of afraid he just didn't know enough about the guy to _love_ him yet.

 

That and....he may have, just _once_ , imagined that it had been someone else making love to him instead of Benny. Just for a second.

 

He had fidgeted through his classes, nervous about lunch. Would anything change? Did he want anything to change?

 

He'd groaned and rubbed his face.

 

When the bell had finally rung and they were released for lunch, he and the girls made their way to the cafeteria. Taking their usual table once they'd gotten their trays, they sat and started talking. Charlie had seemed...smug? And he noticed that she had bruises on her knuckles.

 

He was about to comment on it when a familiar body dropped into the seat beside him. He looked at Benny in surprise. They had _never_ eaten together.

 

“Hey Benny, what's up?” His tone was light, but he was freaking out. Was Benny going to kiss him? Tell him he loved him again?

 

Benny seemed to notice it, and scooted his chair a little farther away, but slid his hand to Dean's thigh, squeezing briefly before moving it. “I'm mostly by myself today, thought I'd come say hello.”

 

Dean glanced over to Benny's usual table, noticing that his sister wasn't there.

 

“How come you're alone? Where's your sister?” He was pretty sure that they usually drove into school together. Maybe she was sick?

 

“Andrea and the rest of my...family went on vacation. Every couple months they all head out to some coastal town and spend a week or so sailing. I haven't gone with 'em for a while, I like to keep busy here at home, and I work, so I can't always get the time off.”

 

He was curious now, with the new information. “Where do you work? I keep pretty busy too. Me and Bobby, we like to hunt on the weekends.”

 

Benny raised an eyebrow at him. “I work at a lil' cafe in town, called Guidry's. I'm a cook.”

 

Dean grinned then. “Oh yeah? So, when're you gonna cook for me?” He flushed when the girls giggled and 'aww'ed.

 

Benny's answering smile was slow and lazy, and he felt heat starting to stir in his belly. “How about this weekend? The house is empty....you could...stay?” He said the last uncertainly, and Dean laced his fingers through Benny's.

 

“Lemme find out what I got planned this weekend...and...we'll see.” He'd have to talk to Cas. They hadn't been on a long-distance hunt in a while, and things felt almost too quiet after the demon attack on the school a few weeks ago. He was itching for a little bit of hunting.

 

The only thing though? Dean _really_ didn't want to talk to Cas.

 

\- - -

 

Castiel was sitting at his desk. He was miserable. A headache was pounding somewhere behind his eyes, and his heart felt like it was tearing in two.

 

“ _He loved you...you broke his heart.”_

 

He pressed his thumbs down against his temples, trying to dull the ache of the words that he couldn't get out of his head.

 

“ _He let himself be vulnerable with you...he wanted_ you _.”_

 

He had scrambled up off the floor after Charlie left and thrown up in the sink. She had accused him of being a jealous bastard, and he was, but he just couldn't cope with the thought of hurting Dean as badly as she'd said he had.

 

“ _I hope it eats you alive.”_

 

It was.

 

\- - -

 

Dean walked into the library after classes had ended for the day. He didn't see Cas anywhere, and there were no books on the table waiting for him.

 

He made his way over to Cas' office and was about to knock when he saw that the Watcher was hunched over at the desk, leaning on his elbows with his hands wrapped around his head. He rapped lightly on the door.

 

He sucked in a gasp of shock when Cas whipped his head around and faced him. Jesus. He looked _awful_. He was wearing a crumpled shirt with the sleeves pushed carelessly up his forearms and his collar was open at the top, tie pulled loose and possibly even backwards. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and he had at least two days worth of beard stubble on his face. Dean could see the marks from where he had hit him, a scabbed-over split on the bridge of his nose, but there was also an angry red and purple bruise on the edge of his jaw.

 

“Dean...” His voice was hoarse.

 

Without thinking he pushed into the office and crouched down in front of Cas, his fingertips reaching out to brush over the bruise. Cas groaned as he touched him and he pulled his fingers away.

 

“Cas, man...what happened?”

 

“That? That would be from where our lovely Miss Bradbury socked me in the jaw.”

 

Dean laughed, because the thought of Charlie punching Cas was too ridiculous. His laughter faded when Cas' face didn't change. “You're serious? Why the hell would she do that?”

 

“It would appear that she was defending your honor, Dean. She came to my house, furious, punched me, and then accused me of being a selfish, jealous cad.” He shifted his eyes so that he was staring at the floor.

 

Dean remembered the look on her face when he'd told her about their fight, and how she had disappeared without a word after he had told his story.

 

“So, she told you....”

 

“She told me about a past relationship of yours that was abusive and that my anger and jealousy triggered some sort of panic attack.” His eyes snapped up and locked with Dean's then. There was so much pain in those blue eyes. “Dean....I do not think that I will ever be able to express how truly sorry I am. I behaved like an ass. I had no right to treat you the way I did, and it slays me to think that I may have hurt you.”

 

He had spoken fast, as if worried Dean would stop him, shout at him.

 

Dean stood up and looked at the disheveled wreck of a Watcher sitting there.

 

“Cas...I get that you're sorry. I even believe you. And...I wish you would have talked to me before things got so screwed up. I still have...feelings, for you,” Cas looked up at him then. “But I need some time...Benny and I...we're together now. He makes me feel safe, and happy, Cas. He told me he loves me.” The words were soft, but he prayed that Cas would understand that he couldn't just go back to the way things were.

\- -

 

“He told me he loves me....” As the words left Dean's lips Castiel was broken.

 

“Dean...I...” He tried to pull himself together. Dean had feelings for him, still? But he was saying that he wanted to be with this Benny. This other man had been able to tell Dean what his heart had been screaming at him to say from the minute he laid eyes on the hunter.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to let the tears fall. Not to beg Dean for another chance. But he was Watcher, Dean's Watcher. Not his lover. “I am....happy....for you, Dean.”

 

He watched Dean freeze, as if that had been the last thing he'd expected to hear from him.

 

“Thanks....so, uh...can we please try to work together again? Maybe....maybe it's better this way. Now we won't have to be afraid to be around each other. Because...nothing's going to happen now.” Dean's voice was choppy, uncertain.

 

Perhaps it would be better. Except Castiel wasn't intending on fooling himself again, he wanted, loved this boy and seeing him in another's arms would slowly kill him. But he put on his best professional face and took a deep breath in. He could just be Watcher, if that is what Dean wanted from him.

 

“Yes, Dean. Again...I should not have let myself forget the boundaries that the Watcher's Council places between hunter and Watcher. They are there for a reason. I will...not forget myself again.”

 

\- -

 

Dean took a breath, shook himself slightly and then threw him a toothy grin.

 

“Alright then, lets get back to business. What's on the line-up for this week Cas? Any good hunts for us?” If Cas could be professional, then he could be...well, at least he could be himself again.

 

Cas turned around and consulted some papers on his desk.

 

“Actually yes, Dean, although I am not certain that it is a hunt. Merely reconnaissance. Ash has informed me that he has begun seeing a pattern of thefts from the local hospital. Once a week the hospital receives a delivery from the blood bank, but apparently, every other week several coolers of blood bags go missing. I am not sure what type of creature would need to steal blood from a hospital, possibly a vampire? But the pattern will need to be investigated, regardless.” His voice had fallen into Watcher mode, and it felt good to hear, familiar.

 

“When do you need me to check it out? When's the next delivery scheduled?” He was curious now, too. He'd never heard of anything that stole blood. Most evil bastards didn't give a crap about people, and had no problem ripping them apart for blood or whatever their weird asses needed.

 

“According to Ash's data, the next delivery that has been predicted to be hit will occur this Friday evening around eight o'clock. If you could scout the area, perhaps see what or who is committing the thefts, we will proceed from there to devise the proper way to hunt it.” He looked at Dean then, eyes steady, giving him the rare option to say no if he wanted to.

 

“Yeah, I can do that. Been itchin' for a hunt lately anyway.” He rubbed his hands together, eager for Friday night. “Uh...so, is there anything planned for this weekend?” He didn't want to come out and just say that he was planning on seeing Benny, possibly spending the weekend at his place.

 

Cas' eyes narrowed just a fraction before he relaxed again. “I will expect you to come to training on Saturday, as usual. I should be receiving a shipment of training equipment sometime this week, and I would like the opportunity to test it out, discover what satisfies our needs and what does not.” He took a breath. “But beyond that, no. Your weekend would appear to be free.”

 

Dean grinned. “Sounds awesome. We studying today?”

 

Cas turned a small smile his way. He stood, attempted to smooth down the wrinkles in his shirt, and pulled several books from his bookcase. “Of course, Mr. Winchester. I believe we were on the topic of wendigoes.”

 

\- - -

As the week went on, the tension between he and Cas started to fade although Cas seemed more attentive than usual, and tended to give him praise at random times.

 

They didn't brush close to each other, or find excuses to touch each other, but they were working together again, and a measure of tightness eased in Dean's chest at the familiar routine.

 

He had persuaded Bobby and Charlie to forgive and forget, that he and Cas had worked things out, and they grudgingly agreed.

 

He and Benny were eating together every day, and Benny was always making Charlie and Jo laugh. Benny would walk him to the library after school where he had told him he spent time working on homework before he had to pick up Sam, and they would spend time with each other afterward.

 

Things were starting to feel good. Feel normal again.

 

\- -

 

On Wednesday night he and Benny were cuddled up on the couch at Benny's watching old movies. Benny was sitting up against the arm of the couch, and Dean was laying between his open thighs, back pressed against his chest and his legs stretched out over the cushions. Benny had his arm draped over Deans chest, and he had been playing his fingers along the cool skin. Benny always seemed cold, like he could never warm up. Sometimes he would be warmer than usual, but more often than not his skin was barely room temperature.

 

“Benny?” He ventured.

 

“Hmmm?” He felt the rumble against his back as Benny answered lazily.

 

“Why are you always so cold? Are you like, secretly an 80 year old woman who never gets warm, even if its summer time?”

 

Benny laughed. “Yeah darlin', I'm secretly 80 years old, which by the way, would make me the dirtiest pervert you've ever met. Nah...I just never been able to stay warm. Prob'ly 'cause I'm 'rigionally from the Deep South, and South Dakota just ain't got as warm a climate I guess.” He shrugged.

 

Dean let it go and had turned back to focus on the movie when Benny leaned down and kissed his neck. He shivered. “Although I can think of a way or two that you could help me to warm up.”

 

He started to laugh, but the sound turned into a moan as hands slipped over his body and Benny's mouth began to suck and lick at his neck.

 

\- -

Friday night rolled around and Dean was feeling restless. He wanted to get this job over with (maybe kick a little ass if he could find it) and then head over to Benny's for what promised to be an _extremely_ fun filled weekend.

 

He parked the Impala a couple of blocks away from the hospital, and after grabbing his bag of hunting gear, crept down the alleys until he found a good lookout spot near the back entrance of the building.

 

He glanced at his watch. It was five minutes until eight and the blood delivery van was due to pull up any minute. Sure enough, a few minutes later a sleek white van backed into the delivery zone and two guys in red and white shirts began unloading the coolers.

 

While the van was unattended and the delivery guys were taking the coolers inside, he noticed a shape, a figure maybe, creeping up along the opposite alley. Whoever or whatever it was was draped in a baggy black coat with the collar turned up. A black cap with a visor on the front hid the face of the thing as it quickly climbed up into the van and reemerged with a cooler of blood in each hand.

 

Dean's pulse started to pound. He wanted to go after the son of a bitch, even though Cas had told him to just watch, and then report back later to form a plan. Well, he had a plan. Jump whatever it was, stop them...kill em if they were evil. Simple.

 

He slid from his post in the far alley and into the darkness, following the figure. The figure turned a corner and he prepared to follow.

 

As he threw himself around the corner, hunting knife out, he saw the figure crouched over an open cooler, blood draining from a half full bag as the thing sucked from a tube in the top. What the hell? A vampire? He shouted and the figure jumped up, rushed him out of the shadows and slammed him back into the wall. They struggled, and Dean ended up in front of the figure shoved into the wall, his hunting knife at the thing's throat. He reached out and ripped the cap from its head.

 

What the fuck?

 

The two men shouted at each other simultaneously. “You're a _vampire_?!” “You're a _hunter_?!”

 

Dean threw himself back from where he'd shoved his boyfriend up against the wall. Benny was a fucking vampire?

\- -

“What the fuck Benny?! Please tell me I did _not_ just see what I thought I just saw?” He was panicking, angry. He shoved his hunting knife at Benny's throat again. “Show me.”

 

Benny was standing perfectly still, hands raised in surrender. “Show you what, Dean?”

 

He pushed harder. “Show me your fucking teeth you bastard!”

 

Benny sighed. “Dean....” Dean punched him in the stomach. “Fine, but remember darlin', you asked.” He stretched his mouth open and Dean heard a little snick as a mouthful of needle sharp teeth descended from his lover's gums.

 

That mouth had been on his neck, on his whole body, so many times. Why hadn't Benny bitten him?

 

“You wanna give me one fucking reason why I shouldn't just fucking kill you right now?” His teeth were clenched tight.

 

Benny laughed. “Cause ya love me? Alright, no....I don't kill people, not anymore. My nest...they can't stand the fact that I won't, but I just...I changed a long time ago. Haven't been a monster in years.”

 

Dean's eyes widened incredulously. What the hell? Did Benny think he believed in that Twilight shit?

 

“Why do you think I'm cold all the damn time Dean? Cause I never feed, never enough, just enough not to starve. I take what I can from the blood trucks, drink animal blood when I can't. I'm not gonna try to convince you not to kill me, cause you will if your heart's set on it. But I drink blood, not people Dean.”

 

Dean stepped off of Benny and plastered himself against the opposite wall. “So you're what, a good vampire? Help the helpless, suffer in broody silence?”

 

Benny laughed again. “Well, maybe not _good_ , but I ain't bad. I do what I have to, to survive, Dean.”

 

He was shaking his head. “I just can't....I can't fucking deal with this right now. I need to get out of here.”

 

He started moving away, down the alley so he could get in his car and go when he heard Benny speak. “So I guess we ain't havin' our weekend in, huh?”

 

Fucking _understatment_ of the fucking century.

\- -

 

Charlie picked up her phone as it made its way through the second half of the Scooby Doo ringtone.

 

“Hey Winchester. Got any asses for me to kick?” She chuckled. She still couldn't believe that she'd punched Cas.

 

“Charlie....can I come over? I need to freaking talk to you.” His voice was strained, but he didn't sound panicked or sad like he had before.

 

“Uhhh....ok? Yeah, come over. Do I need to get out the nail polish and chocolate?” She smirked.

 

“Fuck you.” He hung up, but she had heard the laugh on the line before it disconnected.

\- - -

 

Dean was sitting crosslegged on Charlie's bed, back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling.

 

Charlie was staring at him openmouthed.

 

“Holy. Crap.” She said.

 

“Freakin' right?!” He threw his hands up.

 

“So what are you gonna do now? Do you have to kill him?” She asked.

 

“Jesus Charlie! He's a vampire....but he's also my frigging boyfriend. Who's a vampire. If he's not like...evil...I don't want to have to kill him.”

 

He was completely thrown off when she started cackling. “What?!” He demanded to know what was funny.

 

“Oh shit, Winchester. You are _totally_ dating Edward Cullen. You're freaking Bella. Ohmygod it's just so perfectly hilarious.”

 

He threw a pillow at her. Hard.

 

She sobered then. “What are you gonna tell Cas about tonight? Are you gonna tell him what Benny is?”

 

He buried his face in his hands. “Fuck I don't know, man. I don't want Benny dead, at least not yet anyway.”

 

He groaned. “What am I gonna do Charlie?!”

 

“Ok...so...maybe tell Cas you didn't see anything?” She ventured.

 

He stared at her. “Really? Just like that? Remember the last time I lied to hm? Yeah...that was fun.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Well...this is different. You just need to figure stuff out first. Maybe talk to Benny some more. Get a better understanding of where he's coming from. You said he's been drinking donor blood for years right?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Then just...proceed with caution. That's my advice. Figure out what you want, and if that's Benny, then you don't kill him.”

 

He flopped down face first onto her Pac Man blanketed bed.

 

Fucking vampire boyfriends. Fucking jealous wannabe-boyfriend Watchers.

 

His life was _weird_.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its halloween in a buffy/spn 'verse...some shit is going down.  
> there is hot costumes, salt-and-burning, and charlie gets some attention.

 

Three days before Halloween Dean, Charlie, and Jo were wandering through a little costume shop looking for the perfect costumes. The high school was putting together a Halloween dance that would be held at Purgatory, and they needed some costumes in order to get in. This was the fifth place they'd been to that day, having been disappointed by the picked-clean leavings at the party stores and department stores. The shop they had found tucked away just outside Sioux Falls was different than any store they had found so far. It was small, but the racks and display cases seemed packed full of interesting and unique items. Many of the costumes that were available looked incredibly authentic, and were well-made despite their low price tags.

 

The three of them had split off in search of their own costumes and Dean was looking through the racks of guys costumes for something awesome. There were some super-hero costumes, (Dean could _totally_ pull off Batman), some western-looking costumes that were so bad-ass looking that he wanted to groan. As he came to the end of the rack he did groan as his fingers stroked over the white leather speed-suit of an amazing Evel Knievel costume. This was the be-all-end-all of Halloween costumes, and it was going home with him.

 

As he was pulling the costume off the rack, a man walked up to him and asked him if he needed any assistance.

 

“No man, I got exactly what I want. This place is so awesome. I can't believe you aren't sold out, this close to Halloween.” It was true, this stuff was great, people should be fighting each other over the store's offerings.

 

“Ah yes, well, our location isn't very well known, unfortunately. Most of our stock comes from estate sales and film auctions, and I suppose some people are looking for disposable costumes made from polyester.” The man shuddered.

 

Dean shrugged, he wasn't about to complain. He'd been afraid he would have to come up with some homemade costume as the time ran out to find one.

 

He draped the costume over his arm and went in search for the girls. He found Charlie and Jo arguing over what Halloween costumes are supposed to be.

 

“Jo, Halloween is about candy. I don't need a _sexy_ costume.” Charlie was rolling her eyes.

 

“Charlie! Halloween is a come-as-you-aren't holiday. You can get all sexy and no one can say anything about it!” She was using her best persuasive voice, and she turned as Dean walked up.

 

“Dean! Tell Charlie that sexy costumes are required for Halloween.” She demanded.

 

“I am all for some spandex catsuits and naughty nurses.” He grinned.

 

Charlie slapped his arm. She grabbed a Harry Potter costume off the rack that was just a long baggy robe with the Gryffindor crest on the chest and some other color-coordinated attachments. Jo huffed and pulled out a sexier version of the costume that included a short pleated skirt, a top that looked like a sweater vest with a low neck and a white collar and cap sleeves attached. There were even red and yellow striped knee socks.

 

Charlie blushed when Jo held it up to her body. “Dean! Help!”

 

He whistled. “Charlie, I'm mostly gay and even I can tell that you would look _smokin'_ in that. Hey, you might even catch yourself a sexy little witch.” He winked at her.

 

She groaned, even though her eyes had narrowed as she considered it. Jo hooted in victory as Charlie grabbed the costume out of her hands. “I'm getting the robe, too. Just in case.”

 

Jo was still grinning like crazy as she turned and held up her own costume. “Whatcha think Dean?” She was holding up a classic looking Wonder Woman costume and Dean gave her two thumbs up.

 

“Hell yea, Jo. You are definitely Wonder Woman material.” His smile was easy and charming, and Jo blushed at the praise.

 

They gathered up everything they'd need, including a fluffy black wig for Jo and checked out at the classy little counter, complete with an old-fashioned wooden register with a bell.

 

With bags in hand, they piled into the Impala and headed back for home.

\- - -

 

A week after Dean had discovered what Benny was, he finally called him. They needed to talk.

 

Dean had wanted to know everything about Benny the Vampire, when he'd been turned and why he'd decided to not kill anymore.

 

In the spirit of sharing, Dean had told Benny about how he'd become a hunter, his family's history and about Watchers.

 

They had been sitting on Dean's bed, Dean with his back pressed up against the headboard, and Benny sitting with his arms around his knees at the end of the bed. Dean was listening to that rough, beautiful southern drawl tell his story.

\- -

 

Benny had been 18 in 1951, living in New Orleans on his own after he'd left home on the French-Creole inhabited swamps to sow his wild oats. One night he'd met a gorgeous young man and they had smoked and drank their way through half a dozen French Quarter bars before the man had pressed himself against Benny and kissed him until he was breathless.

 

The next morning Benny woke up in his rented room to find the man sitting in a chair across from his bed, staring at him with a smirk. He had been so damn hungry.

\- -

For fifteen years Benny had traveled the entire coast of the United States with his nest, feeding off of pleasure sailors on yachts. They would kill everyone and then sink the boats to the bottom of the ocean, burying the evidence of their activities.

 

One sultry summer night, Benny had taken one of the boats out to scout for new targets, when he'd come across a young woman sailing a tidy little Single Headstay Sloop alone. Andrea had been a Greek heiress, and was sailing the coasts to escape her family. He'd been taken with her immediately and he'd told her everything about himself from the start. She had accepted him as he was, and he'd skipped out on his nest, following on her voyage. He had been weary of the life, weary of killing to survive.

\- -

A year after Benny had sailed off from a life of blood and violence with Andrea, they were torn apart from each other. Benny's maker had hunted him, found him, and punished him for leaving. Benny had thought they would kill him, but the Old Man had loved Benny most of all his 'children', and despaired the thought of ending him. Instead, Benny's punishment was much worse. Andrea was turned before his eyes and she was forced to join their life.

 

Unable to live with the guilt of bringing about Andrea's death, Benny swore that he would never again kill another human, vowing to survive off of donated blood. Benny's maker refused to let him leave, his love of Benny forcing him to tolerate his choice.

\- - -

 

“So....you guys were like...vampire...pirates?” He grinned then. “You were vampirates.”

 

Benny just stared at him. “You know in all the years we ran together, I can't believe nobody ever thought of that.”

 

“What do you mean? That's like, the third thing you say.” He was adamant. He got blue eyes staring at him with raised eyebrows. “No...it isn't.”

 

Dean was trying not to laugh, trying to hold onto being angry or feeling betrayed that his boyfriend had kept such a huge secret.

 

Then again...he hadn't been exactly honest about being a hunter.

 

“So, darlin'. What's next for us? We gon' work this out, or you want nothin' to do with me now?” Benny kept his eyes locked on Dean's.

 

Benny watched as Dean break eye contact and stare down into his lap, fingers playing with the frayed edges of a hole in his jeans.

 

He spoke again. “Dean...even if I didn't tell you everything about what I am, I never lied to you about how I feel. I ain't gonna stop lovin' you or stop wantin' you just because you know the truth now. Do you love me?”

 

Dean bit his lip and looked up at him. “Benny...I...I want to love you. But I don't know if I trust you. I need time to work this out, but I don't want to work it out alone. I just....I don't know if we can be...physical until I can trust you again.”

 

Benny nodded and moved to get off of the bed. “You need time darlin', I understand. Luckily, I got time.” He gave him a crooked smile and put his hand on the doorknob.

 

As he was getting ready to open the door, Dean scooted off of the bed and put a hand on Benny's shoulder. When he'd turned to face him, he put a hand on his cheek, stroking his thumb over it before sliding it back behind his head. With a hand on Benny's broad chest, he leaned in and pressed a soft, tender kiss to his dry lips. He heard Benny suck in a shaky breath and when he pulled back, there was a small smile on his face.

\- - -

Over the last month Dean and Benny had cautiously moved back into each others lives. They hadn't slept together since, but they were working their way up to it slowly. The first time that Benny had put his mouth on Dean's neck he had frozen and Benny had backed off in a hurry.

 

Dean never told Cas about Benny, but he was trying to build up the courage to introduce them.

 

Benny had become a permanent setting at their lunch table, and it made Dean feel kind of...great, actually. The weren't holding hands or doing any obvious public displays of affection, but they weren't trying to keep anything a secret. The only thing that bothered him was the looks he got occasionally from Andrea from across the room, cold, almost jealous looks that raised the hair on the back of his neck.

 

\- - -

 

Dean had called Cas while they got ready for the Halloween party at Charlie's. Typically, he'd always been told, evil and creepy things stayed away from the holiday if they could help it, and Cas had told him to enjoy his night and that he would see him later. Cas, as a faculty member, had been roped into chaperoning the party and was required to attend. He would also be scoping the place out for any odd occurrences.

 

He stood in front of the mirror in Charlie's room and looked himself over. The white leather jumpsuit looked awesome, the blue and red spangled stripes on the chest framed his skin where he had the zipper undone. The outfit was so tight that he'd had to wriggle it on over his absolute tightest pair of boxer briefs. For a minute he considered finding a pair of panties to wear under it to eliminate any visible lines, but he figured it wouldn't help to be rock hard in a skin tight leather suit all night. He had slicked his hair into as much of a bouffant as he could and hooked his fingers behind the giant belt buckle emblazoned with E.K. riding low on the center of his pelvis.

 

“Oh. my. God. Winchester. I think I might be turning straight.” Charlie was circling around him, eyes roving up and down.

 

He laughed when she slapped his ass. “You're looking pretty hot yourself there Bradbury.” And she was. He had never seen Charlie in anything but jeans or cords with various combinations of band tees, fandom tees, and cardigans. Her legs in the short skirt looked fantastic, long and pale. He tutted at the shapeless robe draped over her arm.

 

The doorbell range a minute later. “That must be Jo. Dean, can you go get the door?” Charlie sounded nervous and he raised an eyebrow at her, but headed for the door.

 

He gaped when he opened the door on Jo. She looked like a freakin' bombshell. The top of her outfit was a bustier, red with the gold W on the front. Underneath was a short, gold-belted blue skirt with stars all over it, tall red boots on that came up to her knees and the classic red cape and gold arm shields. She had teased the black wig into big curls and the gold circlet resting on her forehead completed the costume.

 

She gave him an enormous smile as he stood there gaping. “You don't look half bad yourself there Dean. Sure you're still playing for the other team?”

 

He laughed and yanked her in for a hug. When they pulled apart, he heard noises from upstairs. “Just you wait until you see Charlie...her costume is so...”

 

“Heyyyy!” Charlie clattered down the stairs then and Dean rolled his eyes as he saw her covered pretty much from head to toe with the long black robe.

 

Jo crossed her arms and Charlie's eyes nearly bugged out of her head when she saw her friend's chest in the little bustier. Dean was trying not to laugh at Charlie, but he knew she was dying trying not to drool all over Jo.

 

They left Charlie's and hopped into the Impala, heading for Purgatory and the awesome party that was sure to be there.

\- - -

 

Castiel was...uncomfortable. He had been forced to chaperone this party, and the principal had insisted that he come in costume.

 

He had gone to a costume shop and asked for an angel costume. What the giddy shopgirl had given him....was not what he had expected, although it was much more along the lines of what he thought a warrior angel might look like.

 

He was wearing tight black leather pants over black boots. What could barely be called a 'top' was a sleeveless black t-shirt and a set of silver armor, covering his chest, shoulders and biceps. The chest plate of the armor was shaped into muscular lines and was fastened firmly to him with black leather straps. On the back of the armor were....the most ridiculous set of wings he'd ever seen. When he'd said 'angel' he'd expected white and fluffy, maybe a halo...he looked like an avenging angel instead.

 

On the plus side, he was carrying his lovely iron mace. Of course, it was being used a mere prop, and not its intended purpose, but perhaps he could win the bet with Balthazar for it.

 

He was wandering around the edges of the party, keeping an eye on the students dancing and mingling, when Principal McLeod walked up to him, a frightful frown on his face. As the man sidled up beside him his eyes roamed around again.

 

“Children are like locusts. Crawling around, mindlessly bent on feeding and mating. Destroying everything in sight in their relentless, pointless desire to exist.” The voice was low, annoyed.

 

Castiel looked at the man, his eyebrows raised and his mouth quirked as he tried not to laugh. “I do enjoy these pep talks, Mr. McLeod. Have you ever considered, given your...abhorrence of children, a school's principal was not, perhaps, your true vocation?”

 

The man scoffed. “Someone has got to keep an eye on them. They are all just a load of hormonal time bombs.” He looked away from Castiel “Every time an attractive face walks by, they all turn into gibbering fools.”

 

As McLeod was speaking, Castiel's eyes widened when he saw Dean walk in with his friends. Good lord. What was he _wearing_?

 

Dean's eyes locked onto his and he swaggered towards him, hips swaying with the movement of his steps. His body was encased in... _fuck me_...wickedly tight white leather.

 

“You see the way these kids gaze at each other? All moony?” McLeod continued, but Castiel couldn't hear a word.

 

Their eyes devoured each other. Castiel's stomach clenched at the sight of the wide triangle of Dean's bare chest, the zipper that trailed down all the way to.... _dear god._

 

“I try to teach them about the important things in life. Discipline, responsibility, punctuality. Might as well be talking to myself.”

 

Castiel walked away from McLeod as he finished speaking, drawn like a magnet toward Dean.

\- -

Dean had walked away from the girls the second his eyes caught onto the sight of Cas. Heat blossomed in his belly as he took in the usually prim and proper Watcher talking to the principal.

 

Right now he looked exactly like he did when they used to spar. Fierce, beautiful, terrifyingly sexual.

 

Holy shit...Cas was wearing leather pants. His jumpsuit started to feel even tighter as his eyes roamed over the bare, muscular arms framed by silver armor and black leather straps.

 

He wanted to run his tongue over the lines pressed into the chest plate.

 

They were walking toward each other, eyes blazing with heat. He had no idea what would happen when they reached each other.

\- -

 

A minute later, it turned out, that he wouldn't have to worry about that, as Benny crossed the floor and stepped into his path. He had a smirk on his face, but his eyes were wary. As eye contact with Cas was broken, Dean's eyes grazed over the costume his boyfriend was wearing and threw his head back with a shout of laughter.

 

Benny was dressed as fucking Dracula.

 

A _very_ hot Dracula. He was in slim fitting grey slacks and a white button-up with one of the sexiest things Dean had ever come to appreciate. If Dean hadn't been exposed to about half a dozen erotic visuals of Cas in waistcoats, Benny's deep red, double-breasted brocade waistcoat would have made him drool. As it was, he couldn't help but reach out to pull the vampire in by his hips, running his hands over the tight garment. He laughed at the black velvet cape spread over his shoulders and the little cross medallion on a red ribbon around his throat.

 

Benny was grinning at him and Dean could see he had in plastic fangs. “You like it darlin'?” He motioned over his outfit. “I thought it'd be fitting.”

 

He nodded as Benny leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Do you have any idea what you're doin' to me right now, baby? I wanna take you out back and unzip you so damn bad.” He pulled back enough to give Dean eyes that were nearly black with lust.

 

Dean shivered. It had been so long for them. Maybe that explained his reaction to seeing Cas half dressed. He leaned into Benny's body and gave him a quick kiss before pulling away.

 

Grabbing onto his hand he pulled him over to where Charlie and Jo were talking to Cas. “Hey Benny, I want you to meet someone.” At Benny's questioning look he continued. “My Watcher.”

 

\- -

 

When the boy had stepped into Dean's path to him, Castiel had growled and had to fight himself not to walk the rest of the way and jerk him away from Dean.

 

Then he had seen Dean put his hands on the boy, laugh, shiver when he had leaned down and whispered in his ear. What had he been saying? What had made Dean look at Benny, for this had to be Benny, with such heat.

 

When Dean kissed him, he had wanted to rip Benny apart.

 

Sometime while Castiel had been watching the scene unfold, Charlie and Jo had walked up to him. When he gave them attention, Charlie was looking at him with a look that was an odd combination of knowing and smug. She knew what he felt, and she was challenging him to make an arse of himself.

 

He took a deep breath. Then Dean and Benny began walking toward their small group, hand in hand.

 

As they reached them, Charlie looked at Benny's costume and started laughing so hard she bent over, hands on her knees. Dean and Benny laughed with her, obviously an inside joke over something, because he and Jo just stared at them confused.

 

“Hey guys. I wanted to introduce you two, since you haven't met formally. Benny, this is Cas Novak, Cas, this is Benny.” He said jovially, laughter still in his voice.

 

Castiel held out a hand and Benny looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Cas? This is Cas?” He turned to Dean then, speaking under his breath. “Dean...this guy is like...a teacher.”

 

\- -

Dean blushed and shrugged, but looked at Benny with raised eyebrows. Really? His 80 year old vampire boyfriend was about to complain about Dean possibly having a past thing with an older guy?

 

He squeezed Benny's hand, reassuring. Benny gave him a look that said 'you are so in trouble, but I still love you' and calmed.

 

He reached out and shook Cas' hand. “Nice to meet you, Cas.”

 

Cas frowned. “Actually, I would prefer to be called Castiel, or Mr. Novak. Thank you.”

 

Benny looked from between Dean and Cas, and then lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “No problem. Nice to meet you then, Castiel.”

 

The little group was starting to feel tense, and Benny spoke. “Hey, I think I'll go get us some drinks. Anybody want?”

 

When Benny left with the drink order, Jo decided she was going to make Charlie dance, and she pulled her out toward the dance floor.

Dean gulped and tried to look anywhere but at Cas. They were alone now, and he didn't know what to do. His eyes turned back to the Watcher and took in his costume again, this time noticing the fluffy black wings attached to his back.

 

He laughed. “Cas, man, you look like a fallen angel. Aren't angels supposed to be white and wear like, dresses and play harps?”

 

Cas tilted his head at him. “That is what I asked for at the shop, but the girl working there assured me that this was the only angel costume they had.”

 

He chuckled. Oh yeah....he was sure that the poor girl had taken one look at Cas and decided he needed _this_ costume instead. Maybe he'd have to go thank her....

\- -

 

Benny was just arriving back with their drinks when they heard the screaming. Both hunter and Watcher tore off in the direction of the sound and pushed their way through sweaty bodies on the dance floor.

 

\- -

Meg had been in the bathroom fixing her hair and checking out her costume in the mirror. She looked damn good. The dress she was wearing was an old-Hollywood style starlet's dress, white haltered satin with a thigh high slit. Her hair was carefully curled into Marilyn Monroe style curls and hair sprayed into place.

 

She had leaned forward in front of the mirror to apply lipstick when she'd looked up and seen someone standing behind her.

 

She whipped around. “What the hell? Where did you get that dress? The guy at the shop said this was a one of a kind!”

 

She stomped toward the girl wearing her killer dress and saw her costume was a lot more gruesome than hers. This chick had fake blood and fake cuts on her wrists. How stupid.

 

“Is that a knock-off? Are you wearing a knock-off?” She reached out to spin the girl to look at the tag and froze as her breath frosted in the air. The girl held up a pistol and aimed it at her.

 

Then she flickered out of sight.

 

\- -

The reached the bathroom from where the screaming had rung out. They found Meg standing pressed up against the sinks across from a grey looking girl wearing the same dress. When they saw the gun pointed, and their breath in the air they knew it was a ghost.

 

Dean didn't have any weapons with him, but Cas had that awesome mace, and ran forward slashing it down through the image of the ghost girl.

 

It dissipated, and the temperature returned to normal. They turned to Meg, who was standing there staring at them.

 

“Was that just a freaking ghost?” She was incredulous. Dean saw the minute she accepted it and brushed it aside. “Bitch was wearing my dress.”

 

Cas spoke then. “You mean to say that the ghost was wearing the same thing you are wearing?”

 

Meg gave him a look like 'what the hell did I just say' and nodded.

 

Dean and Cas turned to look at each other. “The dress must be what has brought the ghost here. It must be one of it's possessions.”

 

Dean turned to Meg. “Where did you get the dress, Meg?”

 

She ran her hands down the front of it, smoothing out bumps and wrinkles. “I got it from this shop outside of town. Little place, had lots of old looking stuff. The guy said this was one of a kind, came from the estate of some Hollywood star from the 30's.”

 

Dean was pretty sure he knew where it had come from. Her description of the costume shop seemed pretty similar to the one they had been in the other day. He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Looks like we're goin' on a field trip, Cas.” He looked at Meg. “And you're coming with us, too princess.”

 

\- -

Two hours later the entire gang plus Meg were standing in an old cemetery outside of Sioux Falls.

 

Dean and Cas were digging up the grave of Lucy Briggs, former small-time vaudeville actress and current pissed off ghost. Meg was standing around looking bored. Jo and Charlie were glaring at Meg.

 

They had stopped first at the costume shop and had interrogated the owner. He told them that the dress had come from the estate sale of an old woman whose mother was apparently  Lucy Briggs. The story was, Lucy Briggs had been mentally unstable and unhappy in her marriage to the woman's father. She had discovered that her husband had been cheating on her and one night she had snapped, killing her husband and his mistress by shooting them to death, and then taking her own life by slitting her wrists.

 

Meg had refused to take off the dress so they could salt and burn it, so here they were, digging up the bones of Lucy Briggs.

 

Once the casket had been cracked and Dean was pouring gas and salt over her, he was knocked over the headstone suddenly by the ghost barreling into him. Meg was screaming, and the girls were trying to get her to shut up.

 

The ghost raised the gun at Dean's face and he squeezed his eyes shut. Suddenly he heard a match being struck and Lucy Briggs went up in flames.

 

He slumped down onto the ground at the head of the grave and breathed.

 

Cas wound his arm around Dean's waist and hauled him up. As they started back for the car, Dean tossed over his shoulder. “Hey Meg, just in case you don't wanna be visited by Lucy again, you might wanna burn the dress.”

 

Her outraged shout had them all laughing.

\- - -

 

They made it back to the party with about a half hour left. Dean found Benny and they stood against the wall, close to each other and talked about the case.

\- -

 

Charlie had torn her robe at some point during the hunt, and a little high on the adrenaline of it, simply just tossed it into the the trash and then pulled Jo, Dean and Benny out to the dance floor. They were dancing together happily when she felt a hand squeeze her ass.

 

She whipped around to find a girl standing there. So _not_ what she had expected. The girl was about 5'5 with dark brown curly hair and dark eyes that were sparkling at her with mischief. She was dressed in a tiny little witch costume, so short and tight it looked like lingerie. She had on combat boots with the outfit and Charlie found it completely hot. She grinned at the girl.

 

“Hi there. I'm Charlie.” She reached out a hand to shake and the girl stepped into her and slipped her hands down to her ass again.

 

Her lips were at Charlie's ear and she whispered. “Pamela. _V_ _ery_ nice to meet you Charlie. We're going to have fun sometime soon, I just know it.”

 

Charlie stared at her as she stepped back and turned and walked away, cute little ass wiggling as she went. She didn't even stop as she turned her head and threw a wink over her shoulder.

 

“Who _was_ that girl?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first things first...i am blatantly ignoring the fact that the costumes that these people are wearing in a normal world would be insanely expensive. i want them in these costumes, and i say so :D
> 
> inspiration for cas: http://moviecultists.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/10/legion-poster-6-kevin-durand.jpg  
> inspiration for dean:http://goodcomics.comicbookresources.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/Knievel_SI.jpg  
> inspiration for charlie:http://www.costumestore.com/p-9763-wizard-wanda-sexy-adult-costumes.aspx  
> inspiration for jo: http://www.wonderwomancostume.net/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/DIY_Wonder_Woman_Costume_for_Halloween.jpg
> 
> also...this chapter contains one of my *absolute* favorite snyder moments, and it is pretty much word for word.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> benny says goodbye.

 

_There is a boy chained to the walls of what looks like a cave. The flickering light of candles licks the bare stone, leaving much in shadow. He is weak, eyes slitted open as he pulls at the shackles circling his wrists. There are figures, barely seen, moving around him in the dark. Perhaps six of them._

 

_Another boy, broader, older looking, with a scruff of light brown facial hair, is tied to a column with thick, coarse rope. His eyes are burning with inhuman hunger, his face is drawn tight and pale in pain and starvation._

 

_An olive-skinned girl slips out of the shadows, on the order of someone who remains hidden. Her lovely mouth is twisted in a maniacal smile, chilling. She raises a clasp knife from her side, staring at the older boy with an amused sort of hatred as she runs the tip of the knife from her sleek throat and down between her full breasts. She crosses in front of the chained boy and pulls him out from the wall, his arms cording with muscle as he holds himself up. She slides in behind his body and uses the knife to slice his shirt from him carefully. She gazes at the other boy with a challenge in her eyes and leans down to lick at the boy's neck. The tied boy struggles against his bonds, a growl slipping out of his mouth. She hisses at him and sharp fangs slip over her teeth. She drags long silver-tipped red nails down the boy's skin, leaving angry red furrows over his chest and stomach. The knife reappears and draws across skin, making long shallow cuts. The boy curses._

 

_As blood trickles down in thin red lines, the tied boy snarls at the girl. His eyes clench shut as fangs_ snick _into place._

 

_The man from the shadows steps forward, his face soft and young looking, but his bright blue eyes are old. He tilts his head at the chained boy and smirks. Reaching out with one slim hand, he trails his fingers through the blood on his chest, scraping fingernails over the edges of the wounds and the boy hisses in pain. He moves to stand before the tied boy, holding his crimson stained fingers up to the boy's lips. “Taste him.”_

 

_The boy's voice is low, pained. “No. I won't.” The man clicks his tongue, smearing the blood over the boy's chapped and bitten lips, sliding the tips of his fingers into his mouth. The man's voice is smooth and persuading, “You have been so strong, for so long, my love. Do not resist what I know you desire.”_

 

_The man motions for another to untie him, two others to hold onto him. He twists and fights in their arms as they force him forward, pressing his body against the chained boy. His breathing is ragged and heavy, his hands clenched at his sides. The boy in front of him is crying as he whispers something to the young man losing the fight in front of him. He throws his head back in a hoarse scream. When he looks back at the boy, his fingers unclench and reach out to cup the cheek of the boy, stroking the tears from his skin before his hand slides behind the boy's head and fists in sandy brown hair. The boy's head is pulled sharply to the side as he rears back and then his mouth, his fangs bury themselves in the tender exposed skin..._

_\- -_

Pamela Barnes gasped herself awake as the vision slammed into her subconscious. She sat up in her bed, body slick with cold sweat, covers tangled around her legs.

 

What the _hell_?

 

She had had visions before, but they were pretty much all personal to her own life, never about other people.

 

The thing was, she recognized the two boys in the vision, but as to what she had seen, she couldn't understand what was happening to them.

\- - -

 

It was late November and Dean was standing, hands shoved into his pockets against the cold, biting South Dakota wind. He was standing over the half frozen body of a woman with his phone pressed to his ear as he tried not to shiver.

 

“Yeah, Cas, her neck's all torn up, blood all over her but none on the ground around the body. Yeah. Just like the others. Gonna guess she wasn't killed here. Yeah, I know. Definitely looking like a vamp. Yeah, I'm gonna head back in a minute.”

 

He hung up and sighed, a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. This was the third stiff in as many weeks that had shown up with bite wounds on their necks. He'd tried to talk to Benny about it at first, but he had gotten steadily more and more distant as the weeks went by.

 

To make things frigging worse, Benny had disappeared last week after leaving Dean's house one night. He hadn't shown up to school, wouldn't answer Dean's calls. His car was gone from the driveway of his house. Dean had been searching for him everywhere...there was no sign of him.

 

Dean was trying gamely not to lose it. The only vampires he knew in the area were Benny and his nest. Were they involved in the killings? Was Benny involved?

\- - -

 

Charlie was sitting on a bench in the hallway copying over her physics notes with an organized system of colored pens. She was obsessive about it, but Jo had pointed out to her in her usual blunt manner that that was insane.

 

She tensed as she felt the air shift in front of her and she looked up to find the girl from the Halloween party (Pamela?) standing in front of her with a crooked smile on soft red lips. She was dressed in tight, faded skinny jeans that had holes ripped in the knees, and a Ramone's tee with a black leather motorcycle jacket over top. Her shoulder length hair was a riot of messy curls and she had a pair of dark sunglasses tucked on top of her head.

 

She bit her lip and toed a combat boot against the floor. “Hey, Charlie right?” Charlie nodded.

 

“So...you're friends with Dean Winchester, right?” Charlie nodded again, frowning slightly. Where was she going with this?

 

Pamela huffed out a sigh. “Ok...so this is gonna probably sound _massively_ weird to you, but just roll with it. Is...is Dean's friend Benny a vampire?”

 

Charlie's jaw dropped open.

 

The girl in front of her groaned. “Right, uh...well this next part is gonna sound even weirder, but I get visions sometimes. And...last night, I had a vision that Dean was chained up and Benny was biting him. I don't even know what the hell that means, or how it happens, or why exactly I'm starting to believe that vampires exist, but yeah...my visions are usually pretty accurate, but they don't really give me a time frame...so...I don't know what else to say.” She finished her babbling and stared at the floor.

 

Charlie snapped her mouth shut and grabbed Pamela's hand, pulling the other girl to sit on the bench beside her.

 

“Tell me _everything._ ”

\- - -

 

Castiel was pacing his office. He had spoken to Dean about the vampire victim nearly three hours ago. His hunter should have reported back to him and carried on with his classes, but he had not come.

 

Where was he? Was he out searching for Benny?

 

The lust that he and Dean had seemed to share the night of the Halloween party had cooled once again, but Castiel was struggling to forget the heat in Dean's eyes as they had moved toward each other.

 

After the party, Benny had begun hanging about Dean at all times. Castiel had been afraid that Benny had noticed the way they had looked at each other, and was staking his claim in front of him.

 

Shortly after the vampire murders had started, Dean began acting strangely. He frowned more often than he smiled, he was cagey, sometimes he seemed nervous. He had wondered if he and Benny were having problems.

 

When Benny had vanished into thin air, Castiel had been angry. Dean was frantic, searching for Benny with any free time that he could find, and even occasionally ducked out of classes to look for him. He wanted to comfort Dean, but he knew that if he allowed himself to get close to the hunter he would lose his resolve.

\- - -

 

Dean blinked his eyes open groggily. Where the hell was he? He had left the scene of the latest murder and had been walking back to his car when he had taken a fierce blow to the back of the head. The ground rushing up to smack him in the face was the last thing he could remember.

 

He moved his body and found he was standing up against a rough stone wall. He tried to rub his hands against his eyes to clear the enormous headache pounding through his brain, and was surprised when his hands jerked back. He was chained to a frigging wall.

 

“Dean....” His head jerked up at the raw, hoarse sound and his eyes widened. He surged forward in the chains.

 

“Benny! What the hell happened to you!” He looked horrible, starved.

 

A chuckling laugh came from behind him. Dean craned his head around to see. There was a man standing with his arms crossed in front of him, and although he looked maybe 20, he could nearly feel the age in him. Was this Benny's maker?

 

“Ah, Dean Winchester wakes." The man moved into his line of sight and gave him cold, arrogant eyes. "To answer your question, we were forced to take Benny when we found him trying to clean up our little breadcrumb trail. We brought him here, and now we plan to punish him. You see, we were beginning to question Benny's loyalty to his family...the poor fool was thinking of leaving us again. For you. He was going to leave us for a _hunter_.” The voice was thick with disdain. “I could not allow that to happen.”

The man crossed to Benny and stroked his face. “I punished him well for his last crime, by turning his cow. This time," he touched a finger to his chin in thought. "This time I think I will force Benny to drink you, kill you. He has not killed a human in forty-six years. I think it will be appropriate for his first in so long to be someone that he cares for so deeply.”

\- -

Benny was dying, poisoned with Dead Man's Blood. He was starving. They had taken him, locked him away for over a week, constantly tormenting him with how they planned to kill Dean.

 

They had laid a trap for him. Leaving a trail of victims for the hunter to follow. Dean had tried to get Benny to help him, but the only thing he could do was try to hide the bodies where they couldn't be found. He knew what was happening, he didn't know how to stop it.

 

The Old Man was still talking....smug bastard always did love the sound of his own voice.

 

He coughed, swallowed past the pain of his hunger. “Let him go. He means nothing to you”

 

The Old Man cut him a hard look. “But he means everything to you, my love. Killing him would destroy you, more than me turning Andrea did.” He turned to look at Dean then. “You see, boy, you're all he thinks about. Dreams about. He truly loves you.”

 

Benny struggled in his bonds, feeling his rage overcome the hunger. “I will _end_ you if you touch him.”

\- - -

 

Something was wrong. Bobby had called Castiel around five that evening. Dean had not picked up Sam from school, and he had not come home yet. It was nearly nine o'clock. No one had seen Dean in twelve hours. It was not like him to disappear without a word.

 

Castiel had worriedly called Charlie and Jo, asking them if they had heard from him. They had both said no, but Charlie seemed nervous over the phone

 

Castiel was throwing things into his tan leather satchel, preparing to go search for Dean when he heard the library doors opening, and he rushed out into the main floor praying that it was his hunter. He stopped short as he saw Charlie and a dark haired girl standing there. Charlie was pale and wringing her hands.

 

“Charlie, what is it? Did Dean contact you?” His voice was tight, he did not want to waste time now. He needed to find Dean.

 

She gulped. “Uh...no, he didn't. But....we think,” She motioned between the girl and herself. “that we might know where he is.”

 

His eyes widened. “What? How?”

 

“Well uh...Pamela, this is Pamela by the way, found me this morning and told me about this...vision, she's psychic, and she had this vision about Dean. She thinks she can tell us where he might be, and who has him.”

 

His eyes locked with Pamela, “Tell me, now.”

 

“Um...so in the vision Dean was chained to a wall in what looks like a cave. Its dark and there are a few tunnels around it. There were about five or six people around him....people with fangs and...” She trailed off, as if there were more that she wanted to say.

 

“And? What?” He wanted to reach out and shake the girl.

 

Charlie spoke then, her voice small. “And...Benny is there with him. Benny is being held captive too, and the last thing that Pamela saw was....oh god...the last thing she saw before she woke up was Benny biting Dean.”

 

Biting Dean? “Charlie, I don't understand what you are saying. You are saying that Dean was taken by vampires, and Benny was.....” A terrible thought struck him. He looked at Charlie with fire burning in his eyes. “Charlie, are saying that Benny is a vampire?” His voice was dragging low with fury.

 

She squeaked and grabbed onto Pamela's hand. “Please don't be angry. Please don't be angry with Dean....he didn't know...at first. He didn't know what to do! He was afraid you would kill Benny if you knew.”

 

He cried out. Dean had _known_ about Benny? He had lied to him again. If Benny bit Dean, he would definitely be killing him now.

 

He strode angrily to the weapon's cabinet, nearly ripping the doors off of their hinges. He grabbed a pair of antique double-headed hand axes and pushed his way past a crying Charlie as he left the library.

\- -

Bobby was trying to comfort an anxious Sam when loud, banging knocks sounded from the front door. He ran to the door and pulled it open on a savage looking Cas.

 

“Cas? What the hell is going on? Do you know where Dean is?” Bobby was recovering from the shock of seeing Cas so angry.

 

“I have some information, I was hoping that you would be able to assist. We need to locate a cave.” His voice was flat, dangerous sounding.

 

“Cas...what's happening?” Cas hadn't answered his question. Where was Dean? What was going on?

 

“It would appear, that Dean is being held by the vampires who have been killing townspeople. Also, were you aware that Dean has been dating a vampire?” His tone held a note of suspicion.

 

“What?! Dean? Not my Dean!” Bobby was floored.

 

Cas' hands were clenching and squeezing into fists. “Yes, it seems that we have both been kept in the dark on that particular detail. Can you find this cave, Bobby? I need to kill something. Right now.”

\- - -

Benny was struggling against the ropes holding him to the pillar. The rough braid of the rope was burning and tearing at the skin of his wrists. The Old Man was holding up fingers dripping with Dean's blood. His eyes were a hazed with red, all he could smell was the metallic tang of his lover's blood. He wanted it so badly he could nearly taste it. The Old Man was telling him how much he knew Benny wanted it, and when his fingers dipped to brush over his lips, push into his mouth, the druggingly sweet taste exploded over his tongue. His eyes rolled back into his head and he cried out. They had left him to rot in that cave for a week, starving him until he was desperate for blood.

 

Someone was untying him, cruel hands were digging into his arms as they pulled him forward, shoving him against Dean's bloody body.

\- -

Dean watched helplessly as the wrecked sight of his boyfriend was pushed toward him. He cried out as the fabric of Benny's clothes pulled and dragged at the wounds on his chest, sticking in the drying blood. Benny's eyes were wide, rolling wild in his head. He was whimpering deep in his chest, raw, keening sounds of fear and pain.

 

He was so afraid for Benny, for himself. He didn't really want to play entree for Benny, but this situation was _so_ fucking far from anything normal, and Benny was dying from his hunger. He looked up into Benny's eyes, tried to keep the fear out of his voice as he whispered. “Benny....You can take it. Drink from me. I love you, please. I need you to be strong so you can get us out of here. Please, Benny. Please, I trust you. I trust you. Please.” Tears began to slide down his cheeks as he finished.

 

Benny threw his head back and screamed. The vampires surrounding them were laughing, thinking that they had gotten Benny to do what they wanted. They were looking forward to the kill.

 

Benny's eyes locked onto his, and there was a new calmness in his gaze. Benny was fighting for control. He prayed that it would hold. His life was depending on it.

 

Their eyes held as Benny reached out to stroke his face, brush the tears from his skin. He nodded, a bare movement of his head and Benny's hand slid to his hair, pulling his neck in a long, taut line.

 

When he was bared, flesh vulnerable, Benny's head reared back, fangs slipping into view. Dean's eyes clenched shut, and then everything was pain.

\- -

With Bobby at his back, Castiel burst into the cave, axes hacking the heads off of two vampires as he ran.

 

He was pulled up short for a second when he saw Dean hanging limply in a set of chains, Benny attached to his neck. His vision blacked out and he shouted out wordlessly, enraged. He raised an axe and moved swiftly toward the vampire. As his arm swung back to slash down, Dean's eyes popped open.

 

“Cas! No! Please! Don't kill him! Cas!!” His voice was tight with pain and high with fear.

 

The axe stopped a scant inch from the side of Benny's neck. Benny lifted his head, and Castiel growled at the sight of Dean's blood smeared around his mouth. He flicked a look Castiel's way and then leaned down to press a kiss to Dean's forehead. “I am so sorry darlin', thank you.”

 

Castiel was spun around from the scene by a vampire that had fought Bobby off, hands reaching for his neck and he braced himself and began fighting.

\- -

Dean was jerking his hands in their chains, trying to pull the anchors from the wall when a slender pair of arms shoved him back into the stone, fists pummeling him in the stomach, face, anywhere they could land a hit. Andrea was snarling at him as she beat him unconscious.

\- -

Benny howled as Andrea started beating Dean. He was about to rush forward to pull her off when that arrogant chuckling laugh echoed behind him. He whirled around, fangs exposed as he faced his maker, grabbing onto him by his shirt. He slammed a fist into his face and then threw him across the cave.

 

The man gave him a condescending look as he rose gracefully. “Benny, do you think I am going to fight you? Why would I? You want revenge, and I won't give it to you.”

 

Benny kneed him in the stomach, and yet he refused to go down. He had no weapon and the Old Man wouldn't let him close enough to tear him apart.

 

A voice rang out in the cave. “Benny!” He turned and saw Castiel tossing an axe for him to catch.

 

He had barely caught the axe when a body hit him, slamming him down onto the floor. They wrestled, and when Benny managed to get the upper hand, he hauled his maker up by one hand and swung the axe down across his neck.

 

He slumped against the wall as the head of the Old Man rolled across the ground.

 

\- - -

Castiel was standing in the hallway outside of Dean's hospital room talking to a vampire. The picture was _beyond_ bizarre.

 

He had been completely thrown when after he had taken down the vampire that attacked him, he'd turned to see Benny kiss Dean gently. He had expected a ravening monster, but the pain and shame in the vampire's eyes was deep and clear. When his maker had rounded on him, taunted him, Benny had launched himself into action against the man.

 

Without thinking, Castiel had thrown him one of his weapons, and watched as Benny fought and killed the ancient vampire.

 

They had both moved to unchain Dean, who was hanging unconsciously by his hands. They had locked eyes over his beaten and bloody body, and Castiel had nodded once, allowing Benny to care for Dean.

 

Dean had needed medical attention immediately, and Benny had carried him out to Castiel's car, and sat in the backseat with Dean cradled in his arms. Castiel had tried not to watch them in the rear-view mirror as he drove them to the hospital, but his eyes were drawn time after time to Dean's frighteningly still form.

 

When Benny had caught his eyes in the mirror, his face had been grim.

 

“He's going to be just fine, Benny. You were able to stop in time, your self-control is admirable.” Was he really standing here comforting the vampire lover of the boy he loved?

 

Benny choked on a laugh. “Yeah, sure. The only thing that held me back was Dean's voice whisperin' in my head that he trusted me, trusted me not to hurt him. He trusted me and he shouldn't have.” His eyes wandered down the hall, distant and unfocused as he continued. “You know...I always felt like I'd won the lottery when I found him. Dean is like no one else in the world. Just bein' around him made me feel like I could have everything. When we're together...it's like I'm split in two. One half of me is on fire, goin' crazy if I'm not touchin' him. The other half is so...still...and peaceful, just perfectly content. Every fiber of my being knows that he's the one who could change it all.” His voice was soft, and Castiel was fighting not to feel the hot stab of pain.

He knew exactly what Benny was talking about. Had felt all of that and more every time he looked at Dean. Benny's eyes swung up to his, “But he doesn't love me, Castiel. Part of me knows that he never has.”

 

Castiel felt his heart pounding in his chest. What was Benny saying? His look was so pointed, was he saying....was he saying that Dean was in love, not with Benny, but with him?

 

They both jumped as they heard Dean call out from inside the room.

 

Benny looked at him again. “I need five minutes alone with him, and then I'm leaving. Andrea managed to escape, and if I stay, she will come for him. She'll kill him. I can't let him get hurt again because of me. But hear me now, Castiel. If you hurt him again, I will hunt you down and kill you myself. Take care of him the way he deserves to be taken care of.”

 

Castiel watched as Benny turned and entered the room.

\- - 

Dean was struggling to sit up in the narrow hospital bed when Benny walked in. He smiled at him, but Benny's face was unreadable. Apprehension was coiling in his gut.

 

Dean was bandaged to within an inch of his life. His neck had been wrapped with soft, white bandages, covering the double rows of neat puncture wounds. Apparently they had told the doctors that he had been bitten by an animal. The cuts on his chest had been cleaned and dressed.

 

Benny came to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist, helping him to slide up against the pillows. Benny sat down in the chair next to the bed and just looked at him, blue eyes full of guilt.

 

“Benny....no...”

 

“Dean...dammit this is my fault. You were taken because of me. I'm the reason you're hurt.” His voice was low, toneless.

 

“Benny I'll be ok...I promise. Look...you'll see. In a week or so I'll be completely back to normal, you won't even be able to tell anything happened. We can forget about this Benny, we can go back to things the way they were. Please.” He was frantic. Something was wrong with Benny....

 

“I won't ever be able to forget Dean. I drank you and the only thing that was keepin' me from killin' you was your voice in my head. I won't ever be able to forget the taste of your blood, Dean. What if I lose control again? I....I'm leaving....I have to leave Sioux Falls.”

 

Dean was fighting not to shout, fighting not to cry. “No...”

 

“Dean....I will always love you. But I can't live with knowing that I hurt you. I meant everything that I said to you the night we made love. You deserve to be loved Dean, you deserve to be loved. Never forget that, darlin'.

 

Dean watched in shock as his boyfriend backed out of the room, and left him for good.

\- -

Castiel slipped into the dimly lit hospital room to find Dean staring blankly at the wall. He looked broken.

 

Dean looked at him then, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “Cas...” his voice was raw. He choked on a sob and Castiel did what his heart was telling him to do. He crossed the room to the bed and climbed onto it, sliding his body against Dean's and held him against his chest. He stroked his hand through his hair and rocked him gently.

 

He felt something wet splash onto his arm and he looked down to find Dean's eyes. “He's leaving me, Cas. He's leaving....everyone leaves me...why?” His body shook trying to hold the tears back.

 

Castiel leaned down and stroked the boy's back, resting his cheek against the top of Dean's head.

 

“I'm so sorry, Dean. I'm here, love. I'm here...I'm not going anywhere.”

 

Dean's fingers clutched onto him and he held him fast as he cried.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cas' axes: http://preview.turbosquid.com/Preview/Content_2010_12_08__13_58_46/REN_BattleAxe_03.jpgb3c75083-c9da-4551-b103-fbcd44197cf8Larger.jpg


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is your captain speaking. we have now arrived at your long awaited Destiel destination. enjoy the ride from here on out folks. :D
> 
> so basically, this is earshot without the whole 'someones gonna shoot up the school' bit, told through supernatural characters. 
> 
> also, the original library scene when dean can hear cas' thoughts is the drabble that launched this big beautiful ship. i'm so fucking happy i finally got to put it in here.

 

On a Tuesday afternoon in the middle of December Mayor, Nick D'iavolo was seated at the richly appointed desk in his plush City Hall office working steadily through a stack of documents that required his signature when a soft, hesitant knock sounded at the door. “Come in.” He called out.

 

The door opened on his Deputy Mayor, Kevin Tran. “So sorry to interrupt you, Sir, but your three o'clock is here to see you.” Nick nodded and waved, a bare flick of his wrist. “Of course, Kevin, thank you. Please show him in.” The nervous young man hurried out of sight.

 

A minute later, the body currently being walked about in by the demon Azazel strode into his office and dropped casually into a chair before the desk. Nick raised an eyebrow at the man's demeanor. It appeared that their last encounter in this office had been forgotten. The 'man' seemed perfectly at ease now. “Afternoon, mayor. What can I do ya for?”

 

Nick frowned. He was unaccustomed to such informality. His position in this office generally garnered quite a bit of respect from the people he associated with. “I wished to speak with you further about the matter we discussed several months ago. If you remember, the boy Winchester is, what I believe to be, the key to fulfilling a prophecy that will ensure that I come into full power. And that, my good man, is where your part to play emerges. Upon his eighteenth birthday he will become what my researchers have ensured me is the Righteous Man that this particular prophecy speaks of, and I will need him in place at that time. He is destined to descend into hell and break the first of sixty-six seals that will begin the process leading to my ascension to power.” He stood from his chair and crossed to a large wooden cabinet. “You see, I am no ordinary mayor and this coming year will be incredibly important to me.”

 

Azazel chuckled drily. “Election year, right?” Nick smiled as he opened the doors. “Something like that.”

 

The shelves and display cases of the cabinet were full of old books, relics, pages of symbols and sigils, and the various accoutrement of a powerful man who, for the last ten years in office, had been preparing himself to become a worthy vessel for Lucifer himself.

\- - -

 

That night Dean was stomping though the woods near a housing development on the edge of town, patrolling. He was humming his way through Metallica's Black album trying to keep his mind off of how fucking freezing it was out there.

\- -

 

The past month had been full of changes for Dean and Company. He was still dealing with the aftermath of Benny leaving and pretty much everyone except for Charlie being pissed at him over the vampire thing.

 

Charlie had introduced Pamela to the group after she had been instrumental in Dean not getting his ass eaten by a nest of psycho vamps. From the minute he'd met her, he could tell that Charlie was smitten. Hell, he was smitten by the loudmouthed psychic. Dean liked her immediately, but Jo wasn't exactly jumping on board the Welcome Wagon just yet. Dean figured Jo had wrongly assumed that she was trying to wiggle her way into Charlie's heart in order to be her new best friend, when in reality, he was pretty sure she was trying to win the redhead's heart for another reason entirely. Jo was still completely oblivious to Charlie and he was glad his friend had found a potential someone that would hopefully reciprocate her feelings.

 

Dean had moped for a good three weeks after Benny left. He'd gone through the motions of his routine, but internally he was beating himself up. He knew that Benny had felt guilty and was only trying to protect him, but Dean often felt like everything had been his fault anyway.

 

And things with Cas were...weird at best. After Dean had broken down in his Watcher's arms that night in the hospital, Cas had been cautious around him, and _way_ more British and reserved than usual.

\- -

 

Dean was ripping through a flawless air guitar solo to 'Sad But True' when he heard something crashing through the trees ahead of him. He remembered then why he was out there. Ash had told he and Cas about some, and I quote “supernatural shit” that had been tearing through the development, leaving terrified citizens behind for the last week.

 

At that moment, two creepy ass mothers burst out of the brush. They were tall and looked like their whole bodies were covered in thick grey scabs. Oh yeah, and they had nothing but blank, scabby space where mouths should be.

 

Well, that was fucking new.

 

He pulled one of Cas' sweet throwing knives from the sheath tucked into the back of his pants and hurled it unceremoniously at one of them.

 

He was definitely not expecting the thing to catch it while the other one slammed into him, sending him flying onto his ass with a chestful of monster riding him into the wet ground. He rolled and threw the monster off of him and against a tree trunk. As he got to his feet, he heard a whistling and _just_ barely caught the knife as the other monster threw it at his face.

 

“Did you just see that shit?!” He said to no one. “I'm totally fuckin' Batman.” The monsters seemed unimpressed. The one he had thrown was struggling to stand and he lunged for it, rearing his arm back to shove the silver blade through its heart, pinning it to the tree.

 

He whooped excitedly and fist-pumped the air. “Alright! One down, one...” He turned to find the second monster. “Gone.” He scowled and yanked the knife out of the dead monster, wiping it on his sleeve. He didn't notice the black blood soaking into the skin of his arm under his shirt as he stuffed the knife back down his pants and hauled ass for home.

\- - -

 

The next morning Dean and Charlie pushed open the library doors as they walked in. Jo and Ash were sitting at the table with a pile of books and Ash's crazy laptop.

 

He and Charlie had been talking about the monsters he'd fought last night. Charlie shuddered. “I'm really not into this whole no-mouth thing.” Dean shrugged. “Well, it's better than a big giant mouth full of teeth right? Unless it has teeth somewhere else.” His mind wandered as they came up to the table, tossing their stuff down and sitting with their friends.

 

Cas walked out of his office then, wearing a tight charcoal grey pinstriped waistcoat over a soft-looking dove grey striped shirt, showing off the man's trim waist. A deep purple tie played off the subtle purple and grey pinstripe in his vest and everything was coordinated with black wool slacks. He inclined his head by way of greeting the new arrivals.

 

“Hello, Dean. We've been using Ash's data from the last few months to try to ascertain the whereabouts of the yellow-eyed demon that attacked the school, perhaps figure out what his intentions may be.” Cas' hand slid into the pocket of his vest and pulled out his handkerchief to clean his glasses.

 

Ash nodded. “Pretty riveting stuff, y'all.”

 

Dean perked up. Yellow-Eyes had gone to ground after the attack and there had been no sign of him or his gang of demons in or around town since. “What do we know?”

 

Jo rolled her eyes. “What _don't_ we know. Tell him Cas.”

 

Cas fidgeted. “Well, I've eliminated several possibilities, and cross-referenced...uh...I don't know what's happening.”

 

Dean just stared and scratched absently at his arm. Charlie flipped the cover of a book shut. “Well that was pretty anti-climatic.”

 

They all got up to leave as the morning bell rang. Cas called out lamely after them. “I'm sure we'll find out something more soon.”

\- -

 

“So, Dean. Have you talked to Cas lately?” Charlie and Dean were hanging out by their lockers after English had let out.

 

Dean looked at her. “Charlie, I just talked to him this morning.”

 

“No, no...I meant have you _talked_ to him lately about your obvious and undying man-love for each other.” Charlie rolled her eyes at him.

 

He flushed. “Er...not really? I mean, the whole Benny thing...and I think he's still pretty pissed about all of it. Maybe I was just whacked out on pain meds or something, and imagined the whole climbing-into-bed-with-me-and-holding-me-while-i-cried thing.”

 

She smacked him gently. “Winchester, I don't know what you're seeing, but I saw how he looked when I came to see you in the hospital. He barely left your side.”

 

He crossed his arms. “Well then why hasn't he said or done anything about it since? If it meant something...I just want to know, to be sure.”

 

She gave him her serious advice-giving face. That face had gotten into more trouble than he could remember. “As always, I advise you to ask.”

 

Dean looked at her pitifully. “You think he'd actually tell me? He's so frigging British about this shit, the only time I know what's goin' on with him is when we're fighting.”

\- -

 

Castiel was in his office, pacing. In the month since Dean had been taken by vampires and he had discovered that his hunter had been sleeping with one, he had been wracking his brain, trying to figure out how to talk to the boy about it.

 

When he and Benny had been standing outside of that hospital room, and Benny had said what Castiel had interpreted as Dean was essentially in love with him, he had felt joy, elation. When he had held Dean to him and stroked him through his tears, he had felt conflicted. Dean had quite literally just been chucked by his boyfriend and he was already wondering how to win the boy's heart back.

 

No, that wouldn't do. Castiel loved the hunter, but he would not allow himself to play the role of rebound for Dean. Dean would need to come to him, finally ready to express how he hoped they both felt about each other. There would be no more jealous fights, rather he would remain reserved until an invitation for discussion was extended.

 

So far, there had been nothing, and his hope was fading.

\- -

 

Dean was freaking itchy. The entire way through Auto Shop he kept having to stop what he was doing to scratch at his arm. By the dozenth time he had lifted the sleeve of his t-shirt to scratch, Jo was slapping his hand.

 

“What the hell Winchester?” He shrugged and then his mouth fell open. He glanced down at his arm that was currently criss-crossed with red lines and nail marks. Wasn't that pretty much the exact spot he'd wiped the monster-blood covered knife on his shirt?

 

As soon as the bell rang he sprinted for the library.

\- -

 

Dean was sitting in Cas' office and the Watcher had his shirt sleeve pushed up, inspecting his arm. “You say you think you wiped the creature's blood on your sleeve and it soaked through to touch your skin?”

 

“Yeah, Cas...I stabbed the thing, and I was pretty sure you wouldn't want me to return the knife covered in gross black blood. So I cleaned it off with what I had. Anyway, its been itching like crazy. So what's happening?” He was trying not to melt into the soft touch of fingers against his skin. He almost pouted when Cas moved away to pick up a book off the desk.

 

He flipped a few pages and then turned the book to face him. “Would this be the creature in question?”

 

Dean stuck out his tongue. “In the disgusting flesh.” Cas pulled the book away and read the page further.

 

“Hmm...” Cas sat and began jotting notes in his journal.

 

“What, Cas?” Dean was leaning over in his seat, trying to read over his shoulder.

 

Cas turned and their faces were close. He cleared his throat and backed up. “Yes...it says here that this particular creature has the ability to infect a host that comes into contact with its bodily fluids.” He returned to the book with a finger pressed to his chin in thought.

 

Deans eyes bugged out. “Infect?” Cas didn't look up. “Cas! Infect?!”

 

He got a look at deep blue eyes then. “Hmm? Oh, yes. 'Infect a host with an aspect of the creature.' That's all it says.” His voice rumbled distractedly.

 

Dean grabbed the book out of his hands, eyes racing over the page. “An aspect? What the hell does that mean?”

 

Cas shrugged at him gracefully. “I believe that it could mean any number of things, including parts of or characteristics of the creature.”

 

Dean ran his hands over his face. “Jesus...I hope its not the outside part.”

\- - -

 

After school that day Dean was at the Roadhouse with Jo, Charlie and Pamela. They were sitting at their regular booth in the back of the cafe and Charlie and Pamela had just gotten up to walk up to the counter to get their drinks and food. Jo was watching them standing there, heads close together and giggling. “Who does that Pamela chick even think she is. She just shows up one day all _psychic_ and she's Charlie's new BFF. Bitch, that's my job.”

 

Dean laughed at the possessive tone in Jo's voice. “Jo, you know that you'll always be Charlie's best friend. I don't think Pamela's out for your job.”

 

Jo just looked at them. “Dude, you just read my mind.”

 

Dean's jaw dropped open. Holy shit. He just _read_ Jo's mind. She hadn't said anything out loud.

 

His lips spread wide with a grin. Oh _hell_ yes. He knew exactly what he was gonna do with this aspect thing.

 

“Jo, I'll see you later.” He ignored her startled look and called out a goodbye to Charlie and Pamela as he rushed out the door.

\- -

  
  


Ten minutes later he was bouncing excitedly around the library. “Dude, Cas. Is this the thing? The aspect thing? Cause I gotta say, if it is, it is _way_ better than a tail or horns.”

Cas raised an eyebrow and turned to pull several books from a shelf. “Dean, do calm down. I'm not entirely convinced that we should consider this genuine mind reading. I'm sure you're most likely projecting your-”

Dean cut him off and smirked. “Cas, when I walked in here a few minutes ago, you thought, 'Could his jeans be any tighter. Good lord, they look painted on.'”

Cas blanched. “I...well...” He was struggling to find words. “ _The creatures must be telepathic. I should have known. That's why they didn't need mouths._ ”

“Of course, Dean! The creatures must be telepathic!” Cas said, eyes widening.

Dean laughed. This aspect thing was the Best. Thing. Ever. “I know, you just said so. That's why they don't need mouths. And you should have known.”

Cas stared at him. “This is astounding.” “ _I am so buggered...”_

Dean tried to ignore the thought. “Seriously, its weird, but Cas, think about it. Think about what I could do with this.”

Cas looked at him thoughtfully. “It could be very useful. You could anticipate your opponent's every move. Turn his plans against him.”

Dean grinned at him lasciviously. “Oh wayyy better than that.”

Cas looked uneasy as Dean stared at him hard.

Cas was frowning and very carefully thinking nothing. “Dean, you will not get into my head. If there is something you wish to know, simply ask me. You do not need to play games with me.”

Dean blushed. “Well....I mean...you don't exactly come across as an open book Cas.”

Cas crossed his arms, eyes squinting. “What exactly do you want to know about? Benny? How I felt watching you together? Discovering from Charlie instead of my hunter that he was a vampire? Seeing him biting you, watching you suffer after he left?”

Dean coughed. O-kayy. Truth time. “Well...since you bring it up.”

“I hated seeing you hurt. I hated seeing you in another's arms, giving another your love. I hated that you lied to me. I hated it all more than I could stand.” Cas gave him direct, open eyes.

Dean suddenly felt uncomfortable. He had fully intended on coming here and using this new aspect thing to find out what he'd been wanting to know about for a month, but the truth of Cas' feelings staring him in the face was too much, too fast. He squirmed and looked toward the door. Time to go. “Alright....well this honesty stuff was fun...but...I gotta...see ya Cas.”

He turned and ran, missing Cas' exasperated sigh.  
\- - -

 

Thursday morning found Dean and the entire gang, including Ash and Pamela in the library. Dean was sitting perched on the edge of the table with everyone else scattered around him on chairs.

“So...Dean can hear our thoughts? Every thought?” Jo was staring up between Dean and Castiel, a look of barely contained horror on her face.

Dean grinned. “Every one.” Jo paled.

Castiel cleared his throat. _Focus on the problem at hand, do not let your mind wander_. “Yes, well...I think there must be some sort of precedence for occurrences such as this. I'll begin researching. Ash, would you care to give me a hand?”

He watched the boy stretch out, popping his back, neck and fingers before opening his fire hazard of a computer. “No problemo, compadre. Where should I start?”

All of a sudden Dean burst out laughing. “Jesus, Jo! Keep it in your pants! I'm starting to feel like a stripper up here. Is that seriously all you think about?”

Jo spluttered. “Actually....bye!” They all watched as she jumped up and tore through the library.

“Jo has just illustrated something, quite well. It is likely that you are all going to be thinking whatever you _least_ wish for Dean to hear.” He adjusted his tie and tried to keep his face composed. “It is of course, a question of mental discipline.”

Castiel went over to Ash typing away at his keyboard and tried to keep his mind off of the hunter. Without realizing it, his gaze had traveled up from the screen to slide over Dean's body. _Look at him. No! Don't look at him! Seventeenseventeenseventeen. Almost eighteen, though. What I wouldn't give to have him spread out on that table..._

A wicked chuckle brought him out of his daze and Castiel blushed as Dean locked fire-lit green eyes with his. He raised an eyebrow at Castiel.

He straightened and tugged on his waistcoat. “I'll um...I'll be in my office. I think I hear the telephone .”

\- -

Dean was grinning from ear to ear. Oh yes...things were finally going to get interesting around here. He got up and followed Cas to his office, ignoring everyone's looks. The door was closed but with the privacy of the small hallway, he leaned up against the wall and reached out mentally to try to listen to the flustered Watcher's thoughts.

Just when he was about to give up and move away, they came...Oh God did they come.

“ _Goddammit man...he's going to hear every filthy thought in your bloody fool brain. He's going to know what you want to do...exactly what you want to do. He's going to hear it every time you want to shove him up against a wall, the table, your desk...Oh God...He would know that you dream about him sauntering into your office like pure bloody sex in leather boots and skin tight jeans and sweep everything off of your desk. Dream about him stripping you off, piece by piece of carefully chosen clothing and sucking you down with those sinfully pink lips...”_

Dean was hard. So fucking hard in his jeans....he palmed himself and bucked gently against his hand. He froze when he heard a barely-there noise. Sweet fucking Baby Jesus...was Cas fucking jerking himself in there to thoughts of him? He bit his lip to hold back a groan. There was no way he was going anywhere now.

“ _Yes...fingers in his hair...pulling him in until you hit the back of his throat, hold him there...make him gag on your cock. Then sit back...just like this...he'd bend over the desk, God...I'd wager that tight little hole of his would be begging for you. Fingers first, one, two, three? Oh yes, he'd take three...stretched out so beautifully, moaning and crying for it...pleading with you to take him. You remember how he sounds when he says 'please' like that. Fuck. Pull him down, back to your chest...sliiiide inside...so deep...so tight...fuck! Bloody fuck!_

Dean jumped. He had been stroking himself inside his jeans along to Cas' thoughts, and in the heat of the moment, his head had fallen back and hit the wall with a thunk.

Cas had heard it.

He willed his cock to go down as he ran.

\- - -

 

The last two days had been absolute torture for Castiel. Absolute fucking torture. It seemed Dean was taking full advantage of his new power by tormenting him to within an inch of his sanity.

Thursday afternoon, Dean had come to the library for his study session, but had spent the entire time gazing up at Castiel through thick lashes, running his tongue over his lips until they glistened. He bit his bottom lip flushed and swollen, sucked the cap of his pen into his mouth.  
\- -

Friday he had spent every available free moment invading Castiel's space. Body too close, the scent of him haunting Castiel when he was gone. He had worn even tighter jeans than usual, slung low on his hips, and with every stretch or movement his shirt would ride up, exposing delicious inches of skin to Castiel's eyes. And the eye contact. Good lord, Castiel fought himself not to leap over the table and take his mouth in a punishing kiss every time those eyes locked onto his.

Friday afternoon, Castiel had decided to lock himself in his office until his tempting hellion of a hunter had left the library. It was to no avail. While he had been struggling to concentrate on researching Dean's affliction, the boy had called out to him.

He had walked out into the library to find Dean with a faux-innocent perplexed look on his face. He'd bitten that bottom lip again as he'd looked at the man slowly unraveling before him. “Cas...where are the books on ghoul lore? I can't find them anywhere.”

Castiel had gritted his teeth. Dean _knew_ where those books were. He pointed at one of the low bookshelves. “You know where they are Dean.”

Dean gave him those innocent eyes again and he'd dropped to his knees in front of the shelf. With thighs spread unnecessarily wide he'd leaned over, pointing to a shelf. “Here, Cas?” He said looking over his shoulder. It was the wrong shelf and he knew it. “No, Dean. The one below that.” He'd slipped a finger under his collar to release some of the heat boiling under his skin.

Then Dean had bent down even further to look at the books. His jeans had slipped down his hips and peeking over the top of the waistband were...Jesus Christ. Dean was wearing bright blue lace knickers. Castiel painfully swallowed a groan as he tried not to think of what they would look like without the jeans to hide them. _Would they be short? Would Dean's perfectly edible cheeks be visible under the hem? Would his cock be trapped tight and leaking against the front of them? What would he taste like if he were to lick him through the..._

Castiel had tried to reel in his thoughts as Dean's wide-eyed naïve stare filled with lust and a tiny, tiny smirk lifted the corner of his lips.  
\- - -

On Saturday evening, Dean was at Cas' for training.

Dean was starting to get frustrated. He knew that Cas wanted him, Cas had to know he wanted him, too. He had been teasing and playing with Cas for the last two days, and despite the truly erotic nature of the Watcher's thoughts, he had made no move. He had remained stoic, determined to ignore Dean's behavior.

Friday he had gone home after his study session in the library and stroked himself through the blue lace panties to one of the most intense orgasms he'd ever had. He'd nearly begged Cas to follow through with his thoughts about Dean in them. He had taken a risk wearing them and showing them, but they seemed to get the desired reaction... _thought_ wise at least. He'd wanted Cas to pull down the back of the panties and smack his ass red and burning before fucking him so hard he couldn't walk.

Dean was working up a sweat as he took out his sexual tension on the vacant-looking plastic training dummy. Cas was sitting on the little patio attached to the back of his house researching. Dean grinned and pulled his soaked t-shirt off, running his hands over his chest and stomach. When he looked back at the patio, Cas was gone. He shrugged and went back to the mat to finish his training, he'd find the reluctant Watcher later.  
\- -

Half an hour later, Dean was slick with sweat and breathing hard as he made his way through the back door to Cas' house. He went immediately for the kitchen, pulling a cold bottle of water out of the vintage avocado green fridge. He dumped a little bit of it over his head and groaned at the feeling of the cool water against his hot skin. He finished the water and grabbed a kitchen towel to wipe down with and walked into the living room.

Cas was sitting stock still on the couch, one leg crossed over the other as he made notes in his journal. There were several books spread out on the cushions around him. Dean tossed the towel onto the coffee table as he sat down on the edge of it. “So...whats the sitch? Any leads yet?” He asked.

“No, Dean. Unfortunately there are no leads yet. I will be placing a call to a friend of mine at the Council, to see what, if anything, he might be able to dig up on your...problem.” Cas looked at him hard.

Dean reached out to pluck the journal from Cas' fingers and laid it down on top of the other books. He was tired of waiting for Cas to make the first move. He would just have to man up and do it himself. He ran his hand from the ankle propped on Cas' knee slowly upward. He slid to his knees on the floor in front of him and pulled his legs apart cautiously. Cas looked down at him with a look so fiercely aroused that he shivered. His fingers crept up his thighs, and he saw Cas' hands clench into fists. He pushed his body between Cas' legs, bringing their faces closer as one of his thumbs traced over the hardening outline of Cas trapped in his slacks. One of Cas' hands whipped out then, fisted in his hair and pulled them close, so close he could feel Cas' ragged breaths against his lips. His lips parted, begging silently for a kiss, and Cas' eyes flicked down to stare at his mouth. He whimpered softly. “Cas...please. Please, please, please, please.”

Cas growled and his eyes squeezed shut. “ _Look at him begging for it...”_

The next thing he knew Cas was shoving the books off of the couch, and Dean was being slammed back onto the soft leather with Cas on top of him. They were pressed together so tightly, their cocks achingly hard digging into each other's hips. His hips bucked up against Cas and he ground himself down into Dean so hard that he cried out. He tried to snake a hand down between them to touch Cas, open his pants so that he could feel him finally. Cas' eyes narrowed and he gripped onto his wrist. He leaned backward and hauled Dean up by his arm. With his other hand he tugged the tie from around his neck and with terrifying speed had looped the silk around both of Dean's wrists and bound them tightly together behind his back. He was shoved back into the couch, staring up at Cas above him.

Cas ran his fingertips down Dean's chest, coming to rest at the waistband of his jeans. His cock ground against him again as Cas whispered. “Are you wearing them, Dean?” He closed his eyes and groaned as he nodded. Cas gripped his jaw in his hand. “No, Dean.You started this. You will keep your eyes on mine until we are finished. Do you understand?” He nodded again, desperate. This was not what he had been expecting, but fuck did he want it. With his hands bound behind his back and Cas' hips pinning him to the couch, he was helpless. Cas' fingers slipped under the top of his jeans, popping the button open and sliding the zipper down painfully slow. With both hands he spread the fabric open to reveal what was underneath.

The panties weren't the exact same as yesterday's. This pair was black satin with a small white polka-dot pattern, tight and bikini cut, with one tiny blue bow in the center. Cas leaned over him, his mouth ghosting over Dean's stomach and down. His lips brushed against the little bow before his tongue slipped out and licked a line under the elastic. Dean cried out again. Cas pushed his legs up to his chest, and pulled off his shoes and socks. Dean tried to fight the giggle that burst out of him when Cas' fingers stroked over the bottoms of his feet. He let Dean's legs drop to his sides and reached underneath him, yanking the jeans off and threw them over the side of the couch. Dean was now naked except for the panties. Cas was still completely clothed, minus his tie. He moaned when Cas slotted his body against his hypersensitive skin, the feel of himself pressed tight underneath the satin driving him crazy.

“ _This is what is going to happen here, Dean.”_ Dean gasped as Cas addressed him through his thoughts. _“I will remain clothed. You have been an_ incredibly _naughty boy Dean, and naughty boys do not deserve to be rewarded for bad behavior.”_ He shivered, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. This was a fantasy he had never played with before. _“I am going to tell you what I would do to you, had you been a good boy and had earned the right to feel me deep inside of you. I am going to make you come from my voice in your head alone. I will not touch you, other than my body against yours. You will not speak. You will not move, the only friction you will be given is what I allow. Do you understand me, Dean?”_

He was trembling beneath Cas as he nodded.

“ _Good boy. Let's begin.”_

Cas leaned over him, the only point of contact between their bodies was Cas' hips holding him to the couch. He could feel the length of him, hard and hot through his clothes. Cas' mouth hovered over his neck, a fraction of an inch away from his skin. _“If you had been a good boy, Dean, I would use my mouth to lick and kiss my way over every inch of your skin. I would leave bite marks on your neck, your nipples, because you belong to me.”_

Dean whimpered, fuck yes. _“I would stroke you through your lovely little knickers. You are so very hard for me now aren't you, Dean? What did you hope I would do when I saw you bent over on the floor yesterday, your tight little ass in the air with your lacy knickers peeking out. Did you hear what I was thinking, Dean? Do you know that I came back here that night and thought about shoving those knickers down to your knees, making you hold them up by spreading your legs so wide as I fucked you?”_

Cas ground his hips against him and he let out a sobbing moan. _“Every night Dean, every day, I dream about what it would feel like to be inside you. If you had been a good boy, I might even now be working your tight, pink little hole open with my fingers, getting you ready for me to slide inside. Do you fuck yourself on your fingers at home and think of my cock, Dean? Or do you have toys? I'd wager you have toys, don't you? Do you love the feeling of being stuffed full, Dean? How badly do you want to beg me to fuck you right now, Dean?”_

Dean screamed as Cas thrust against him hard. Oh fuck, he could almost feel it. He was so fucking close...nearly the entire front of his panties were soaked with pre-come and he was so, so hard. _“That's it, Dean. You're doing so well, taking your punishment like a good boy. You look so beautiful right now, Dean. I want to be inside you so badly, I want you to feel me inside you. I want to make love to you, Dean. I want to feel you so tight around me, I want to spill myself inside you, make you feel the heat of me as I come inside, Dean.”_

Dean was losing it...tiny cries were falling from his lips as Cas rocked against him. _“Are you ready, Dean? Are you going to come?”_ Dean nodded, he was drunk on this feeling. _“Beg me, Dean. Beg me to let you come.”_

Dean groaned loudly. “C-Cas! Please! Please let me come for you. Please!” Cas dropped his mouth to his neck and set his teeth into Dean's sweat soaked skin. _“Do it, Dean. Come now.”_ Dean bucked his hips up against Cas and screamed as he started to bite and suck on his neck. “Castiel!” The inside of the panties soaked with his come and he was shuddering hard with aftershocks as Cas ground his hips into him again. With a hard thrust, Cas gripped onto his elbows and shouted out his own orgasm.

Cas collapsed against him and they both drew in ragged breaths as they came down. Dean was floating in subspace, he couldn't move his body if he tried. Cas sat up first and moved off of the couch. He picked up Dean's discarded towel and began cleaning him off. His own pants were sporting an impressive wet spot, but they would need to be cleaned later.

He pulled Dean up by his shoulders and pulled the tie loose, dropping it on the floor. He stood and looked down at Dean, his eyes were full of some soft emotion. “Wait here, Dean. I'm going to get you something clean to wear, and for myself as well. I will be back, I promise.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Dean's forehead.  
\- -

Dean must have dozed off in the post-orgasmic bliss, because he woke to Cas gently pulling his ruined panties off, wiping him clean with a warm, damp washcloth, and pulling a pair of soft sweatpants up his legs. Cas was dressed in a similar pair of pants, with a faded Oxford University t-shirt. He lifted Dean's shoulders again and slipped under him to sit on the couch. He pulled Dean up until his head was resting against Cas' arm and his shoulders were snuggled against his legs.

He stroked a hand down the side of Dean's face. “Dean, how are you feeling?” Dean just smiled at him. He felt Cas' laugh rumble through his chest, but his fingers tapped against his cheek. “I need you to use words, Dean. I need to make sure that you are alright.” Dean's eyes opened and he looked at Cas then. “I'm so good, Cas. I feel...so good.”

Cas raised his chin and kissed him softly. “Good. Now Dean, I need to discuss with you the ramifications of our actions tonight.” Dean groaned, but Cas tutted at him. “Ah, ah Dean. The two of us have ignored and denied for too long. I love you, Dean, and I want you with every part of me. The fact remains, that you are still under 18 and I would ask that you respect my decision to wait until that time to make love. I will not push you away again, and I would hope that you will not run. I want nothing more than to be with you, in every way. Sex is merely one of those ways, and I do not wish to miss out on the many others until the time is come.” Dean listened to the voice wash over him, and tears slipped from his eyes.

“Cas....I...I want that too. I always wanted you, but sex was never the only thing I wanted. I want all of you.” Cas wrapped his arms around him and brought their mouths together in a sweet, deep kiss.

When they parted, the smile on Cas' face was radiant.  
\- - -

That evening after Dean left, Castiel phoned Balthazar. His friend asked him for a few hours time to do the research and that he would give him a ring back once he had something.

Castiel sat on the couch and thought about what had happened that afternoon. His control had snapped when Dean had pushed one final time, but good Lord....the outcome had been spectacular. He had never expected Dean to be so submissive, given that his general attitude was cocky and ridiculously self-assured. Dean had given him complete control over his body, and Castiel was soaring on the feeling.

The phone rang suddenly, shaking him out of his reverie. “Balthazar?” He asked.

“Yes, Cassie darling. I've found some information for you...” His voice was hesitant.

“And?”

“Well it is not entirely pleasant, love. Uriel and I have found a report of this happening before. A man in Ecuador. Quite recently, in fact.”

Castiel was confused as to why Balthazar seemed so grim. “Can we contact him?”

“Afraid not. He cannot communicate with anyone.”

Castiel felt a chill. “Is he...dead?”

Balthazar sighed. “Worse, darling. He's in complete isolation. The power...he can't turn it off.”  
\- - -

 

Sunday afternoon, Dean and the girls were at the mall. Dean was still riding his high from the day before, but the second they'd walked into the mall, a headache began to pound through his head. The sound of the thoughts around him seemed louder, more.

They walked, but Dean kept rubbing his temples. There were so many fucking thoughts. Some guy that brushed past him had been thinking about how to rob one of the stores. A woman walking into a lingerie shop was thinking about the man who was not her husband that she was going to buy lingerie for. A girl was sitting forlornly on a bench thinking about killing herself because she thought she was ugly and fat.

He stopped in the middle of the walkway and clutched his head. The thoughts roared over him like a tidal wave and he was sucked under. He could hear a million voices, he couldn't block them, couldn't pick out one from another.

He fell to his knees and blacked out when he hit the ground.

\- -

He came to laying on the couch in the living room of Bobby's house. Everyone was staring down at him. Sam, Bobby, Jo, Charlie, Cas....they were all just staring at him and _thinking_.

“ _He looks so tired.”_  
  
  


“ _Thank God he's awake”  
_

 __  
“Idjit”  
  
  


“Shut up! Everyone fucking. Shut. Up.” He closed his eyes and rubbed the heels of his hands against them. “Ugh...I'm sorry. I..its just...can you guys not think so loud? Or so much...”

Cas helped him up from the couch. “Come on, Dean...I'll help you up to your bedroom so that you can lie down.”

They made it up the stairs, and Cas was lowering him to the bed. Dean gripped onto one of his hands and looked up at him. “I can't shut it out Cas. It's like this invasion of my head, like there are strangers walking around in there and I cant get them out. I can't even be around people anymore. Not that they're really in a hurry to be near me anyway. Even you.” He was so tired.

Cas knelt in front of him and stroked his face. “No, Dean. It's not that...it's hard for all of us. We don't want to hurt you. Bobby and I are going to look for a way to help, everyone is.” His voice was soft and concerned.

“I'm gonna be okay, right? I mean, even if you can't get rid of it?” He looked down into the face of his Watcher.

“You'll be fine, Dean. I promise. Trust me.” He pushed Dean to lay down and he turned to leave.

“ _If it doesn't go away, he'll go insane.”_

_\- - -_

Castiel and Bobby were sitting in Bobby's den, books spread everywhere. It was late, late at night, and all that Castiel could think about was the boy suffering upstairs.

They had stumbled upon a potion that was reputed to cure Dean's affliction and Bobby was sitting at his desk mixing together some of the ingredients that they had.

“Well...seems to be comin' along alright.” Bobby said.

“Oh yes, Dean is being driven mad, we have no proof this is going to work, and it still requires the heart of the second creature, which we have no idea how to find.” Castiel snapped at him.

Bobby gave him raised eyebrows. “Negative thinking doesn't solve problems, Cas. And Ash is busy looking for signs of the thing. I bet we find it by morning. Then you can take your shitty attitude and shove it right through the things heart.”

\- -

Bobby walked up the stairs early that morning to find Sam standing outside of Deans bedroom, staring at his brother thrashing restlessly in the bed.

“Boy did you get any sleep.” Bobby squeezed Sam's shoulder.

“Bobby, I can't stand it. I keep wondering if I'm hurting him with my thoughts.” The kid's voice was full of worry.

“You aren't. Not anymore. He can't pick one thought out of any of 'em.”

  
  


Suddenly the front door burst in and Bobby raced down the stairs to find Cas clutching a jar of some lump of flesh covered in black slime.

He huffed as he tried to catch his breath. “I got it!”

They hurried to mix the final ingredient into the potion.

\- -

Dean woke from a fitful sleep and found Cas sitting at the edge of his bed and pulling him into his arms. He lifted a hand and tried forcing a glass full of the nastiest shit Dean had ever smelled or tasted to his lips. He gagged, but Cas kept tipping the glass toward his mouth. He had swallowed a few gulps and Cas laid him back against his body.

Dean looked up at him with a disgusted look. "What was that stuff? God, it was ass. It tasted like ass." He closed his eyes and curled his body around Cas'.

When he started convulsing he heard Cas shout for Bobby.

\- -  
When Dean woke again, Cas was kneeling beside his bed, his hands wrapped around one of Dean's

“Cas?” His voice was hoarse and he coughed to clear his dry throat.

Cas sucked in a breath and looked up at him. “Thank God...Dean, can you hear thoughts?”

Dean tilted his head to listen and grinned. “Nope.”

Cas pulled his face down for a kiss.

\- - -

On Monday morning, Dean and Charlie were walking through the quad.

“So you and Cas work something out? I couldn't help but notice some of that tension was gone the other day.” Charlie asked.

Dean smiled and nodded. “Yep...we talked, had some insane almost-sex, then he ripped out the heart of a monster and fed it to me, and then we talked some more.

Charlie laughed. “See! That's how it should work.”

They spotted Cas walking up to them and Charlie gave him a wink and slipped away to go find Jo.

“Hello, Dean.” Cas was grinning at him. Had he ever seen Cas grin before? Well, he liked it.

“Hey, Cas.” His grin was just as big, and stupid. God, he was a girl.

They turned and started walking side by side down the hall.

“So how are you feeling, Dean?” Cas asked.

“Lovin the quiet. Nobody in here but me.” He frowned a little then. “But I have to say, I'm gonna miss hearing your filthy mind, you pervert.” He stuck out his tongue at Cas.

Cas scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Well I'm glad to see you've recovered from your psychic encounter more or less intact. Shall I see you this afternoon then?”

Dean glanced around the halls quickly, before pulling Cas in by the front of his shirt to kiss him. “You betcha.”

He walked away with a laugh at Cas shocked face.

\- - -

One week later Mayor D'iavolo was returning to his office after escorting a group of middle school students around City Hall. They had come for a field trip, and they were learning about branches of government at all levels. 

There had been a particularly bright young boy in the group, and he had talked excitedly about how he wanted to be a lawyer when he grew up.

Nick had laughed and asked the youngster his name. He barely contained the wicked grin that wanted to spread when the boy said eagerly “Sam Winchester, Sir!”

He sat at his desk and pulled up the number that Azazel had given to contact him. “Hello, Mayor D'iavolo here. I believe I have discovered the perfect bait for our little plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i followed the script of earshot pretty directly, and in doing so i used large chunks of dialogue and plot.  
> source: http://www.buffyworld.com/buffy/transcripts/052_tran.html
> 
> also: the top half of cas' outfit from the first library scene. imagine a purple tie instead of red and drool away :D  
> http://img.loveitsomuch.com/uploads/201211/20/me/mens%20modern%20double%20breasted%20vest---steampunk---modern%20suit-%20custom%20menswear---made%20to%20measure---made-f35781.jpg


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> guess who's having a birthday? :D oh yes. it is fucking on.
> 
> story becomes plot and angst heavy from here on out. buckle up kiddos.

 

_“You're having doubts.”_

 

Castiel was in his office with one hand pressed to his forehead and the other holding the telephone to his ear.

 

Naomi sighed in his ear. _“Cruciamentum is never easy, Castiel, for hunter or Watcher. But prophecies such as these have been dealt with this way for centuries. It is a rite of passage.”_

 

“It is an archaic exercise in cruelty. To let him walk blindly toward his supposed destiny without....If the board members of the Council still had actual contact with hunters, they might understand, but I am the one in the thick of this...I am the one who must keep this from my hunter.” Castiel was getting angry.

_“It is for that reason that you are not qualified to make this decision. You are too close.”_

 

If she only knew.... “That's...that's not true.”

 

_“A hunter not only requires physical prowess, but must also have cunning, imagination, a confidence derived from self-reliance. Once this is all over, your Dean will be stronger for it.”_   Her voice was oh-so reasonable. He hated the sound of it.

 

“Or he'll be dead for it.” He said snappishly.

 

The Council had informed him two weeks ago of the prophecy that they believed Dean was to play a key part of. This particular prophecy foretold that a Righteous Man would sacrifice himself out of love and would be taken to hell. If the Righteous man did not manage to prevent the first part of the prophecy from from coming true, he was then destined to break the first of many seals that would release the Morningstar from his cage.

 

Castiel was terrified for his hunter. Terrified that they would be torn from each other.

 

_“Castiel, if this boy is everything that you say, then you will have nothing to worry about."_   She sighed again.  _"But, I feel I must remind you that you are forbidden from interfering. Dean must face his destiny entirely without bias.”_

\- - -

 

Dean was excited. Like can't-sit-still-walking-with-a-spring-in-his-step excited.

 

Tomorrow he was turning 18.

 

He and Cas could _finally_ be together in the most literal sense of the word.

 

Not that the last month hadn't been amazing. Their budding relationship was full of new and wonderful things. He could kiss and touch Cas whenever he wanted...well almost. They had to be careful while at school, and in public they were forced to go outside of town where no one knew them.

 

This weekend, after the party that the girls had begged Bobby to have, Cas was taking him to the city. He had gotten them tickets for the ballet, after he had discovered Dean's secret love for it when he had caught Dean watching Black Swan for the fifth time, and a plush hotel room where they would spend the night together. Naked.

 

Oh yes. Dean was excited.

 

When Charlie caught up with him as he was walking across the quad, his cheeks were starting to ache with the mile-wide grin he couldn't seem to get rid of.

 

“Hey there Winchester. Excited for the bestest birthday party a Winchester ever had?” He nodded, but her eyebrow quirked up. “Or...are we excited for the after party? I hear someone has plans this weekend.”

 

He blushed. “Uh yeah...I do have plans.” His grin stretched. “A date. Older man, very handsome, likes it when I call him 'Daddy'.” He laughed as Charlie's jaw dropped open.

 

“Dean you kinky little shit. Didn't know Cas was into that.” He laughed again and waved it away.

 

“God, Charlie, you should see your face. No...But he is taking me away for the weekend. Ballet, romantic dinner...”

 

“Ridiculous amounts of filthy hotel sex?” She was grinning at his blush.

 

“That, too.” He bit his lip at the images flashing through his brain.

 

He couldn't wait.

\- - -

 

Azazel pushed open the creaky, splintered door of the ancient boardinghouse where they had moved their base of operations.

 

The mayor had summoned him for a meeting earlier that day, and their plan was set to be put into action immediately.

 

The Winchesters. He was nearly giddy with the thought of having the opportunity to play with them again.

\- - -

 

That night Dean was out patrolling. There had been some increased demon activity in the area lately and Dean was suspicious. Until now there had been barely a sign of _anything_ demonic since Yellow Eyes had attacked the school, and everything had been too quiet. It would be his luck that the bastard would decide to come out of hiding right before his birthday. Dean should know better than to be lulled by a false sense of security and start making plans. The universe always managed to fuck him over when he did.

 

He had chased the scent of sulfur nearly the whole way around town, but had yet to come across a demon.

 

He was grinding his teeth in frustration by the time he made it home.

 

He couldn't sleep once he got to bed, tossing and turning as his mind tried to work through what the demon's endgame might be.

 

Just after midnight his phone pinged. He reached out to grab it and squinted in the glare of the backlit screen.

 

His mouth dropped open when he saw who the message was from.

 

**[Cas: Happy Birthday, Dean.]**

 

Cas had texted him. Cas knew how to send a text message?

 

**[Dean: holy shit cas, has charlie been teaching you how to use your phone again?]**

 

**[Cas: Yes, Dean...I have learned that there are many positive uses for a cellular telephone.]**

 

Dean rolled his eyes. Only Cas would text the exact same way he talked.

 

**[Dean: yeah? like what?]**

 

The next message came about five minutes later. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when it popped up on his screen.

 

It wasn't a text. It was a _picture_.

 

Cas had sent him a picture of himself. And Jesus _fuck_ he could not believe what he was seeing.

 

In the picture, Cas was standing in front of a mirror, phone held up to his side. He was wearing Dean's absolute favorite of Cas' waistcoats, the first one he had ever seen him in. That was about all he was wearing. Dean slipped a hand down the front of his boxers and squeezed his instantly hard dick as his eyes devoured the image of Cas, so fucking sexy in the dark grey tweed, the front unbuttoned and hanging open around his bare chest. He followed a delicious line of pale skin down the Watcher's body, thin dark hair curled around his navel, trailed lower and out of view underneath a pair of had-to-be-illegal-y tight black boxer briefs. He could see the outline of Cas' cock straining against his hip and his mouth watered.

 

**[Cas: Dean?]**

 

**[Dean: jesus cas...fuck me that's so hot]**

 

He could practically see the secret little smirk that Cas wore only for him when the next message popped up.

 

**[Cas: Only if you are a good boy.]**

 

He whimpered, stroking himself tightly.

 

**[Cas: Are you touching yourself, Dean?]**

 

With shaking fingers he tapped out a reply.

 

**[Dean: yes]**

 

**[Cas: I want you to stop. Can you be a good boy and wait for this weekend, Dean?]**

 

He bit his lip and whined in the back of his throat. God, he loved it when Cas played with him like this.

 

Ever since that afternoon when Cas had tied him up and made him come using only his mind, they had started a careful game of dominance and submission when the mood struck. Cas had laid down rules though. There was Dean and Cas time, like when they were just together at Cas' watching Dr. Who  and Adventure Time and trying not to jump each other. There was Watcher and hunter time, when they focused on the business of the supernatural. And then, there was playtime. Sometimes it was elaborately planned adventures, sometimes Dean walked in the front door to Cas' house found Cas in a mood, and more often than not, Dean was being punished for not being able to control himself. He couldn't really decide if Cas taking him over his knee and spanking him until he was bruised was actually punishment, though. Unfortunately, getting his ass spanked was only one of the _many_ inventive ways Cas had devised to punish him.

 

His breath quickened at the thought of purposely disobeying Cas. He was eager to play along, but he was aching, he needed to come so badly. He kept stroking as he replied.

 

**[Dean: god, cas....fuck.]**

 

**[Cas: Dean, if you come without permission, that would be very naughty.]**

 

Dean shivered. He could hear his Watcher's low, rough voice in his ear. He was so close.

 

**[Cas: You had better stop, right this second, Dean. You remember what naughty boys get, don't you?]**

 

He had to wrap fingers tight around the base of his cock to hold off his orgasm.

 

**[Cas: Dean, tell me what naughty boys get when they disobey.]**

 

His fingers were screaming to resist as he pulled his hand away. He curled his hand into a fist and breathed in through his nose to calm the fire burning sparking through his nerves.

 

He jumped as the phone gripped in his other hand started vibrating. He thumbed the accept call button.

 

“ _Dean? Are you touching yourself?”_ Cas' voice was thick like honey.

 

“No, Cas...no....I stopped, I swear...Cas...I need you so bad.” His voice was strained, just a touch desperate.

 

There was a dark chuckle. _“I know, love. That's why I want you to be good for me and wait.”_ The tone lowered to a growling whisper and Dean whimpered. _“I have so many things planned for you, Dean.”_

 

“Cas... _please_ let me come.” He was ready to beg, he was so ready.

 

“ _No, Dean. You will wait because it is what I want. Tell me what naughty boys get when they disobey.”_

 

He whined. “Cas...”

 

“ _Tell. Me.”_

 

His whisper caught at the end on a sob. “Punished.”

 

“ _That's right. Do you want to be punished, Dean?”_ The rough voiced question sent fire burning through his veins.

 

“No, Cas, please.”

 

“ _Then behave for me, love. Go to sleep. I will see you tomorrow for the party. Happy Birthday, Dean.”_

 

The phone went dead in his ear.

 

He was going to spontaneously combust before this weekend even started.

\- - -

 

 

Friday morning Dean woke up to Sammy pouncing his baby-gigantor body onto his bed and bouncing his brother out of the fucking filthiest dream ever.

 

“Happy birthday Deaaaaan!!” He shouted in Dean's face.

 

“Yeah, yeah...now get off me Sasquatch.” He scrubbed his hands over his face.

 

He groaned and sat up, pooling his covers in his lap to hide his hard-on.

\- -

 

The doorbell rang about half an hour before everyone was due to show up for the party. Bobby and Sam were out back getting the fire pit ready. It was cold as fuck, but Charlie and Jo had insisted on s'mores.

 

Dean opened the door and grinned. “Stripper-gram? It is my birthday, ya know.”

 

Cas stood in the doorway with one hand tucked into the front pocket of a cream and grey window-pane checked waistcoat and a heated smirk on his perpetually chapped lips. The sleeves of his white button up were rolled up over his forearms, tattoo peeking out underneath. Dean stepped in close and ran the tip of his finger down the front of the Watcher's navy tie.

 

He locked eyes with Cas as he pulled him in by his tie, flicking his gaze between Cas' blue eyes and his mouth. Cas growled softly as Dean hovered a breath away from his lips

 

When Cas reached out to grab onto his hips, Dean backed into the house with a smirk. Cas' head ducked just slightly until he was staring at up at Dean with hooded, predatory eyes. Dean licked his lips and his stomach clenched as Cas' followed the movement. He backed farther away and a thrill of sweet fear raced straight down his spine and into his cock as Cas advanced.

 

Dean couldn't tear his eyes away and he wasn't expecting his back to hit the wall.

 

Cas was on him in less than the time it took for him suck in a breath. He dug his fingers into Dean's hips and jerked their bodies together. Dean cried out as Cas' mouth descended on his neck and bit him. His hands slid over the texture of Cas' clothes covering his skin and Cas nuzzled under his ear. “You little tease.”

 

Cas' fingers fisted in his hair and kissed him hard and dirty, tongues and teeth licking and nipping as their hips ground together.

 

Dean was getting dizzy from lack of oxygen. When Cas' pulled away they both jumped and turned at the sound of gagging from across the room.

 

Sam and Bobby were standing in the doorway. Sam was pretending to shove a finger down his throat and Bobby just crooked an eyebrow.

 

They both blushed and broke apart. Cas cleared his throat and tugged his clothes back into place.

 

Twenty minutes later everyone showed up.

\- -

 

After they had eaten and s'mores had been made and Charlie and Jo had cooed at him when Cas had wiped a smear of marshmallow off of his mouth with his thumb and sucked it into his own, they were ranged around the living room shoving presents at Dean. All Dean cared about was that after he was forced to open gifts there would be pie. He never had birthday cake. Always pie.

 

Charlie gave him a kick ass box set of Star Wars on DVD and made him promise to make a plan to watch them all in one marathon sitting. Jo gave him an oil changing kit. Ash gave him a scary awesome looking homemade EMF detector that he made from an old Walkman. Bobby gave him a stack of lore books about some of Dean's favorite creepy crawlies. When he opened Sammy's present he teared up (in a manly way of course). His little brother had given him a picture of Dean and Mom and Dad, when mom was happy and pregnant with Sammy. The frame was decorated with little sea shells that they had collected from the beach the one time that Dad's tracking had led them to California.

 

When presents were done, they were in the kitchen eating apple pie a'la mode. Dean was in heaven. He didn't realize he was moaning around each bite until he looked up and saw Cas with his fork clenched in his hand and his pupils blown wide as he breathed through his nose. Dean bit his lip and barely managed not to launch himself at the man.

 

Luckily Bobby came through the doorway then carrying a box wrapped in brown paper. He motioned Dean over and handed him the box. Dean was confused. Was Bobby giving him another gift? Why did he look nervous?

 

He pulled the paper off to reveal an old battered shoebox. He lifted the lid to find wadded up newspaper. He picked up an odd shaped wad of newspaper and unwrapped it to find a gorgeous Colt pistol. He ran his fingers all over the piece, taking in the Latin ' _non tiembo malo_ ' engraved on the barrel and the pentagram etched into the handle.

 

“Bobby....what is this? Where did this come from?” His voice was soft and awestruck.

 

“Uh...there should be a letter in there, should explain everything.” Bobby was rubbing the back of his neck.

 

With an eyebrow raised and everyone looking at him, he dug through the box to find a folded up sheet of paper. He opened and read it, his heart pounding in shock.

 

_Dean,_

_Son, if you are reading this now, it means that I am dead and that you are celebrating your 18 th birthday without me there. I know I was never the greatest at being _

_around as a father, but leaving you this is one thing I know I can do. This gun was made by Samuel Colt, and it can kill just about any supernatural creature,_

_including the Yellow Eyed demon. He will come for you and Sammy, and I need you to protect your brother. Take this gun and protect our family Dean._

 

_I love you, son._

_Dad_

 

He looked up at Bobby. “What?”

 

“Your daddy gave me that box right before you two left for Chicago with instructions to give it to you on your 18th birthday if he didn't come back from that trip.”

 

Dean couldn't believe it.

\- - -

 

Three hours later Dean's eyelids were getting heavy as he laid on the couch with his head in Cas' lap, fingers running through his hair in a lazy, comfortable way that made Dean want to purr and rub his cheek against the firm thigh under soft wool slacks.

 

Charlie had convinced them all to crack open Dean's new DVD's and have a movie marathon. Jo was curled up at the other end of the couch, Sammy had fallen asleep in the big armchair, and Ash and Charlie were having a heated debate about the movie's themes and effects.

 

Dean was about to fall asleep when Ash's computer let out a loud burst of sound, very much like a car alarm. Suddenly every single person in the room was on alert. Ash pulled the computer into his lap and began typing rapid-fire. He spoke with his eyes on the screen.

 

“Demon omens, a buttload of 'em. All seeming to converge around that old factory that we checked out before. Don't know why they're there...but it looks like it could be between five and fifteen demons, depending on how strong they are.”

 

Dean groaned and sat up. The night before he and Cas were supposed to go away, the world would decide to implode. He felt his fingers curl around the Colt then and he felt a new sense of determination. With the gun he might actually have a chance to kill Yellow Eyes, and tonight just might be the perfect opportunity.

 

They roused a grumpy Bobby from bed and told him what was happening. Sam called his friend Brady to see if he could stay the night due to a family emergency. Ash and the girls decided to stay at the house to monitor any other activity while Dean and Cas went to check out the factory.

\- -

 

The factory had been a trap. Typical.

 

They had shown up, guns and exorcisms at the ready. They could find no sign of demons as they had made their way into the wide open room.

 

The demons waited until they had no defenses, no cover. The were directly in the center of the room when 10 demons surrounded them.

 

The fight was brutal. They had shot and stabbed and exorcised until they were bruised, bloody and hoarse.

 

They had run for the Impala with the three remaining demons on their asses. They had skidded and sped their way to Cas' and stumbled through the front door, holding each other up.

 

Currently they were sprawled on the couch, breathing through their pain and trying to come down from the adrenaline rush of the fight.

 

Dean shifted on the couch and his breath died in his throat when he looked up and found Cas staring at him hard. He bit his lip at the pure heat in that look and Cas groaned. Cas reached out and grabbed two handfuls of his shirt and hauled him into his lap. Dean scrambled to get his legs on either side of Cas' hips as Cas yanked him forward, their lips crashing together. He moaned into Cas' mouth as his Watcher licked into him, tongue hot and rough as Dean ground his now aching hardness into Cas.

 

They were breathing hard, eating the sounds from each others mouths as they desperately touched every inch they could reach, bodies screaming to feel skin and sweat, slick and hot against skin. He had his fingers buried in Cas' hair as he ran his hands up Dean's back, nails digging into the skin underneath his shirt.

 

He hissed in pain as Cas' fingers rasped over the edge of a wound in his back. He must have gotten cut or scraped up during the fight. Cas pulled his hands away and pushed Dean back to sit on his thighs.

\- -

 

“Dean, are you all right?” He was panting, voice strained with the effort it was taking to control himself.

 

Dean whined and squirmed in Castiel's lap, wanting friction and his hands on him. Castiel framed his face with his hands, bringing his eyes to focus on his. “Dean, are you all right?” His voice was firm this time. His hunter was hurt. He needed to know how badly.

 

Dean's eyes were hazy with want, desperate. But he managed to swim back into himself and looked at Castiel and nod. His voice was hoarse. “Cas...I'm ok. Must've scraped up my back or something. I'm ok...please Cas, please don't stop. I want you so much, need you so badly.”

 

Castiel groaned deep in his chest as Dean rocked into him. He grabbed onto Dean's ass and struggled to his feet. Dean gasped as he was lifted into the air and clutched onto his shoulders for balance. Castiel stumbled over to the stairs and made it three steps up before his legs went out, bringing them down hard onto the hardwood. Dean cried out as Castiel thrust his hips against him. They kissed sloppily, more teeth and spit than anything. His body jerked as Dean's hands gripped the front of his waistcoat and roughly pulled, brass buttons clattering as they bounced off the stairs. He thrust his hips again and shoved them up the stairs another few steps, crawling as they tore at each others clothes.

\- -

 

They rode each other up the stairs and once they hit the landing Cas climbed to his feet and hauled him up, smashing him up against the wall. Dean moaned as Cas' hands popped the button of his jeans and hot hands shoved inside. He cried out...oh fuck. Cas had his hands on his cock. Fucking _finally._

 

He bucked into those hands and pulled Cas in by his face to kiss him. When Cas was sucking and biting at his lower lip his hands slid down and tugged Cas' loose tie off, before unbuttoning his shirt as quickly as fucking possible. He needed his hands on skin, and now.

 

“Fuck...Cas!” Cas was ripping his t-shirt over his head and throwing it before pulling him away from the wall by his belt loops. He backed Dean towards the bed as they kissed. When the back of Dean's knees hit the mattress, Cas pushed him hard back onto the bed.

\- -

 

Castiel felt primal, animalistic...he had his hunter under his hands and for once he did not have to hold back. He wanted nothing more than to tenderly spread this boy out on his sheets and make love to him, but there was no way that either of them could rein in the desperate, hungry passion riding them right now.

 

He sucked and bit at Dean's neck as they rutted against each other. He slid his hands down the back of Dean's jeans and sat up to yank them off of his legs, grabbing and tossing boots and socks as he went. Dean followed him up and had Castiel's dress slacks pushed down over his ass in seconds.

 

The air was punched-out from his chest in a moan when Dean bent down and took him into his mouth. Bloody hell that mouth...so hot, so fucking wet. Dean sucked him and licked him and took him apart with hands and lips and tongue. He cried out as Dean took him down completely, swallowing around him and groaning, the vibrations through Castiel's cock sending his eyes rolling back in his head.

 

He bucked into Dean's throat and growled in approval as his mouth fell open, slack and pliant around him.

\- -

 

Dean hummed around Cas' cock shoved deep in his mouth and his cock jerked as Cas thrust into his mouth. Fingers slid into his hair and gripped, pulling him off of Cas and throwing him down onto his back. Cas' hands on his knees spread him wide and he groaned as Cas pressed their bodies together with a loud smack of skin on skin. Cas was going fucking flat out caveman on him and he was so fucking turned on he thought he might forget how to breathe.

 

Cas rocked against him, their cocks slotted together, burning hot and slick with each others pre-come. His Watcher leaned into him hard and his head fell back, watching Cas reach out to the bedside table and pull out condoms and lube.

 

Everything was happening so fast...Dean could hardly keep up. He just wanted to feel, take everything Cas laid on him and just let go. Neither of them had said more than a few words, but the only communication they needed was between their bodies. Was Dean's cock leaking against his stomach. Was Cas', hot and hard as a rock. Fuck, he wanted that inside him like yesterday.

 

He whimpered as he watched Cas slick up his fingers. Cas' blue eyes were black in the dark of the room, looking nearly possessed by his lust. He kept their eyes locked (as if Dean could tear himself away from that) as those fingers pressed against him, massaging in a tight circle against the muscle. He bucked against the fingers, needing them inside. Cas leaned over him, swollen lips hovering over Dean's mouth, watching his face as he pushed one finger inside.

 

“Ohfuck....Cas...fuck fuck fuck...” The burn and stretch of Cas' finger felt amazing, but he rocked his hips up, forcing Cas' finger inside him up to the knuckle. Cas' upper lip pulled up in a snarl and he growled as he felt the tight, slick heat of him. “Please Cas...harder, more...please.” He was so fucking high on the endorphins already flooding his brain that he knew that gentle and patient wasn't gonna cut it. Cas seemed to realize it and slipped his finger free, slicking practically his entire hand up before pressing two fingers inside hard and fast, fucking him into oblivion on just his fingers.

 

Three fingers then, and Dean spasmed against the bed as they brushed hard over his prostate, lighting up ever nerve in his body. Cas fucked him on his fingers mercilessly, pulling begging, pleading moans from him in long strings of nonsense words.

\- -

 

Dean was tight and clenching down around his fingers, but he took them so well that Castiel couldn't stop himself from staring entranced as his fingers disappeared into that body over and over again, hitting his prostate on every other stroke. Dean was screaming and begging, and the sound was sweet in his ears. “Cas please! Please I need you inside me, now...please. Want you to fill me up with your cock, fuck me so hard I can't walk. Oh god, Cas...please.”

 

He yanked his fingers out and with as much speed as he could muster, he ripped the condom open and slid it over his length. He stroked himself with his slick hand. Jesus, had he ever been this fucking hard in his life?

 

He nudged himself between Dean's cheeks, spreading them open with his hands as he lined up with his fucked-open hole. Holy God he couldn't wait. He pressed the wide head of his cock inside, popping it through the ring of muscle and Dean cried out. He sat there, just inside, trying not to come right then with Dean squeezing down around him. A desperate whine filled his ears. “Don't stop, please Cas don't stop.”

 

Castiel growled and grabbed Deans hips, surely they would be bruised come morning, and slammed himself inside until his thighs smacked against Dean's ass. The beautiful hunter screamed for him, and he pulled back before thrusting inside again just as hard. He set a blinding pace, racing his own orgasm to completion. He wanted to be inside Dean for as long as humanly possible before he couldn't hold back any longer. Dean's moans were wrecked, falling from his lips between harsh panting breaths as he fucked into him with everything he had to give.

\- -

 

This was actually fucking happening. Cas was fucking him. Fucking him harder than he'd ever been fucked in his life and he was dying from the pleasure slamming into the base of his spine on every thrust against his prostate. He was pretty sure the sounds he was making were barely human and he needed to come so fucking badly.

 

When he reached for his cock to stroke himself in time to Cas' brutal thrusts, he was taken by complete surprise when he felt Cas grab his wrists and press them down into the mattress.

 

“You. Will. Come. On. My. Fucking. Cock. Dean.” Each word was driven home inside him with a bone-rattling thrust and that was just fucking it. He screamed out as he came hard enough that he felt come striping up his own chest. He was clenching uncontrollably around Cas' hard cock and Cas let go of his hands to use his hips like fucking handles as he pounded into him. Cas leaned down and took his mouth, branding him with his tongue, with his teeth set in Deans lip, bit down until he cried out, and then Cas was coming, spilling himself inside the condom as his hips stuttered in a chaotic rhythm.

 

 

Cas collapsed onto Dean's chest and both of them were heaving, brains starved for oxygen as their hearts raced.

 

“Dean....” Cas voice was exhausted, broken, beautiful.

 

Dean barked out a hoarse, joyous laugh and groaned as the ache started to creep in under the rush of his orgasm.

 

“I fucking love you, Cas...God I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cas' party outfit: http://www.galwaybaygifts.com/image/cache/product_popup/data/tweed-waistcoat-cream-with-grey-windowframes-51-600x600.jpg
> 
>  
> 
> also...the moment on the stairs was inspired by an amazing scene from the movie Donnie Brasco, where they basically fuck their way up a set of stairs. ridiculously hot.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i decided to give you all a fluffy, schmoopy present before i tear your hearts out. because i'm just that considerate :D

 

Dean woke slowly to the feeling of long fingers stroking down his right side and lips softly kissing along his shoulders, neck, and back. He cracked an eye to find the bedroom still cast in the shadows of the night, the small Tiffany-style lamp in the corner suffusing the space with a muted amber glow. He smiled as the kisses continued in no identifiable pattern over his skin. “Cas?” His voice was sleepy and just a little slurred as he stretched his sated limbs. “Hmm?” Cas murmured against his neck. “Whatcha doin'?” He felt lips curl into a smile. “Counting your freckles.” He laughed and pressed himself back against the firm, warm body behind him. He tilted his head to the side, inviting Cas to move his kisses to his throat, and made a small noise of contentment as Cas followed him. An arm wound its way around his waist and Cas' nose nuzzled the soft patch of skin behind his ear.

 

Dean smiled and turned within the circle of the Watcher's arms until he met gorgeous blue eyes full of some tender emotion. His smile broadened as he remembered what he had said earlier in the heat of their passion. He'd meant it. He really was in love with Cas, and if he was honest with himself, he probably always had been. He laid his hands on Cas' gently sculpted chest and looked up into his eyes, pushing as much knowledge of that feeling into his own eyes, his face, his body.

\- -

Castiel had never felt so perfectly at peace as he did holding this boy in his arms, able to touch his skin, listen to his soft, deep breath and stare into the lush green of his eyes. He watched those eyes soften, fill with something... Castiel's breath hitched in his chest and he felt his own eyes widen. Was Dean...what was he trying to say? “Dean?” Dean's cheeks pinked just a little and his eyes flicked down to stare at his fingers resting on Castiel's skin. He raised his hand and stroked the pad of his thumb over Dean's cheekbones, sliding fingers into his hair as he tilted his head back to look at him.

 

Dean bit his lip. “I...I meant what I said Cas.” Castiel's heart stuttered. He meant... “I love you.” He stared at Dean's eyes and sucked in a breath. His hand on the back of Dean's head brought them together and he kissed that beautiful mouth. They kissed deeply, soft and sweet, lips and tongues exploring unhurried as they breathed each other in. Castiel slid a hand down Dean's back, felt him arch and press against him as he teased over his ass, and farther down to hook behind his knee. He pulled the leg up to his own hip and held it there as he rolled them until Dean was beneath him again.

 

They both groaned as their hardening lengths slid beside each other, hips canting up at the sensation. He leaned down to kiss Dean and the hunter grimaced as their stomachs pressed together. Castiel looked down between them and Dean laughed as a sheepish look crossed his Watcher's face. Dried and drying come was sticky and uncomfortable on their skin, Dean had a long stripe of it from his stomach nearly all the way up to his throat, and they were both still covered in blood and dirt from the fight at the factory. He sighed and dropped his head to the crook of Dean's neck. “I believe a shower is in order, love.” He could almost feel Dean pout and he nipped at his earlobe. Voice lowered he whispered, “And then I want you back in this bed. I am not done with you yet, not by far.”

\- - -

Having made their way into the bathroom, Cas had him flush up against the door and was kissing him stupid as the water heated. When steam started to fill the tiny, tiled space they parted with sighs on their lips. Cas held a hand out to him as he climbed into the old bathtub and he moaned when the spray beat gently against his sore muscles, the water sluicing off of their bodies swirling around the drain in a light, rusty red. He breathed in a deep, steamy breath and looked at Cas, finding his eyes tracking rivulets of water down his body before raising and fixing him with a hungry look out of hooded eyes.

 

Without breaking his gaze, Cas reached behind him for a washcloth and a bar of some creamy looking soap and the sensual scent of amber and bergamot filled the space between them as Cas lathered the bar between his hands. When the cloth was white with fragrant suds, Cas lifted his hand to stroke it over his cheeks and forehead, cleaning him of blood and grime gently. He closed his eyes as the cloth traveled down his chest, his shoulders, down his arms. Those hands, those soapy fingers felt so good as they massaged knots of tension out of his muscles. He hummed out a noise and opened his eyes to take the soap from Cas' hands. The hand cleaning him kept working, but lazily now as he rubbed the bar until his own hands were full of soapy bubbles. Following the same pattern that Cas had, he cleaned his face, the Watcher's head turning to the side to press a wet kiss to the inside of his wrist and he shivered.

 

He reveled in the feeling of Cas' skin under his hands. It was a new sensation, and he was going to drink it up. For the most part, Cas had always been careful to keep his own clothes in place, only stripping Dean down to panties or boxers. He abandoned the soap and simply ran his hands slowly over every inch of Cas he could find until his breath went from deep and even to shaking and panting softly.

\- -

His head fell back as Dean touched him, heat coiling in his belly with each pass of wet fingers. Castiel grunted as the hands left him, but just as he was about open his eyes, fingers slick with soap wrapped around his half-hard cock. His hips jerked forward into Dean's hand and Dean began to stroke his now very firm length in tight, perfect pulls. Reaching out blindly he grabbed onto Dean's face and pulled him in to kiss, deep and hot, tongues licking and teeth nipping. Dean's hand moved faster, pleasure shooting up his spine and he was so close.

 

Before Dean could finish him off, Castiel's hand fell to grip onto his hunter's wrist, stopping his motion. He pressed his forehead against Dean's and breathed. “Not yet, Dean...and not like this.” Dean's fingers tightened for a split second and stole his breath, and the boy grinned at him as he pulled his hand away. He backed Dean under the spray again and watched the water fall down his body. Castiel leaned up against Dean, kissing him as he reached behind him to take the shampoo down from the hanging caddy. He poured out a handful of the soft, spicy scented soap and rubbed his hands together before bringing them to take Dean's hands in his. He soaped up both of their hands and raised his own to Dean's hair, running his fingers through the short brown length until it was foamy with lather. Dean laughed and mirrored him, both falling silent as the sensation of their hands massaging each others scalps overwhelmed them. He tipped Dean's head back to rinse the soap out, and Dean pulled Castiel in by his face to kiss again, eyes closing as soap and water ran down their faces.

 

When he was reasonably sure there was no soap in his eyes, he opened them, enjoying a moment of watching Dean with his eyes closed, breath heavy, face open and beautiful with lips kissed dark and puffy. Stepping in close, Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean's back and dropped his mouth to the stretch of wet, dripping skin on his neck. His hunter shuddered as his lips followed the water down over his chest, sucking and licking his way to dusky brown nipples. Dean cried out softly as he traced the tip of his tongue over the rough, pebbled flesh. Castiel looked up at Dean's face when he slid a hand from his back to take his other nipple between his fingers and pinched. “Oh fuck...” Dean's voice was wrecked, and Castiel wasn't anywhere near finished. He grinned against Dean's skin as he simultaneously rolled the nipple in his fingers and stroked the flat of his tongue over the other.

\- -

Dean's arms splayed out to his sides, trying to find something to hold onto as Cas teased his nipples until he was so hard he was aching. “Cas...please, fuck that feels so good.” His hips rocked, desperate for friction against _something, anything_ , but Cas was bent over his chest, and too far away. A whine built in his throat that turned into a yelp as Cas bit down around his nipple, hard and fast. He twitched as that wicked tongue laved over the bite and Cas straightened. He tried to pull Cas to him so he could rut himself against him, but the Watcher held firm, immovable.

 

Hands on his hips turned him and he didn't fight it as Cas pressed himself flush against Dean's back, cock hard as it nestled against his ass and lower back and he rolled his hips, grinding his ass back on Cas' cock. He felt the vibrations of Cas' growl as he nuzzled behind Dean's ear and pushed himself back harder. Cas pulled back slightly and Dean was about to follow him when he heard the shampoo bottle snap open. The head of Cas' cock brushed against the top of his ass as he slicked himself up with the soap and stepped back into him. Cas' slippery fingers spread his cheeks apart and stroked his cock between them. Dean groaned as it slid over his hole, past it, and back. His hand went back to hold onto the back of Cas' head and the Watcher's arms slipped around him as he slowly pushed himself through the slick channel of Dean's cheeks. He moaned as one hand teased against the nipple Cas had bitten and the other grasped onto his leaking cock, stroking him in time with Cas' thrusts.

 

They panted together and Cas' hand squeezed him as he did his best to clench his cheeks together, making the space his lover was thrusting into even tighter. Cas was fingering the bite mark on his chest and stroking him faster as his hips lost their beautiful, controlled rhythm. He was close, Cas was close, the noises rising from their mouths a concert of moaning, growling, groaning. Cas thrust harder and pinched his nipple sharply and Dean cried out, head falling back against Cas' shoulder as he came over his hand. Cas grunted and bit along his neck up to his ear as he continued to thrust, stroking Dean through his orgasm. “I love you, Dean....always, fuck...always loved you.” Dean moaned loudly at the words and the feelings shooting through his body and Cas slid home one final time before spilling hot and thick against Dean's back.

 

They stood pressed together just like that on unsteady legs as the water began to turn unpleasantly cool. Dean shivered, skin fever-hot to the touch as he reached out and turned off the shower. Cas grabbed the wet washcloth and wiped himself and Dean's back until they were clean. When Dean turned, he slid his arms around Cas waist and hauled him in against his body and kissed the Watcher breathless.

\- - -

Castiel and Dean had tumbled back into his bed after getting _thoroughly_ distracted with drying each other off. Under the pretense of toweling off his legs, Dean had dropped to his knees and wrapped his lips around the head of Castiel's cock, swallowed him down and sucked another surprised orgasm out of him. He had pulled the far too proud hunter up and licked the taste of himself out of his mouth before begging Dean for a short reprieve. There were plenty of hours left in the early morning, and he intended to use them all. He had stopped at his bureau to pull two pairs of boxer briefs out (pretending entirely that they wouldn't be stripping out of them soon enough) and tossed one at Dean. The sight of Dean in _his_ clothes sent a spark of hot lust through his body.

 

They were lying comfortably sprawled on the sheets, duvet half pulled over their legs with Castiel on his back, propped up with pillows and Dean curled around him with his head on his chest. His fingers played up and down his stomach, toying with the fine dark hairs down the center of his abdomen. Castiel carded his own fingers through Dean's silky hair and his lips curled into a dark grin every time his nose caught the scent of his shampoo, his soap, _him_ , on Dean. He slid his hand down the warm, soft skin of Dean's back to stroke his fingertips against the spot where he had come earlier in the shower. He felt fiercely possessive, more so now than ever before. He had marked his territory (although his forward thinking brain was trying gamely to remind him that Dean was _not_   a possession) and God help anyone or anything that tried to take it from him now. He had held Dean in his hands, claimed him with his body thrusting into the shuddering heat of him, marked him with his fingers pressing bruises into his hips, his teeth set into his neck and around his nipple, and covered his back in his seed. Bringing his hand up to cup the back of Dean's head, he brought the hunter's face up for a kiss. _Mine,_ his mind whispered and he thrilled at the little sigh Dean breathed out as he released him.

 

His mind wandered between fantasies of Dean to the gifts he had gotten him for the birthday that they had both eagerly awaited. He had planned on giving them to Dean on their romantic mini-break to the city, but the more he pondered it, there was one gift that he didn't want to wait to give. He slid out from under the weight of Dean, heart thrumming happily at how familiar and _right_ it felt to hold him just like that and chuckled fondly as Dean clung to him sleepily. He laid a kiss to his hair as he stood and walked over to his packed suitcase that stood waiting for their intended departure that evening. As he unzipped the top, he groaned when he saw the light pink Agent Provocateur box wrapped in black ribbon. Though he wanted to see the look on Dean's face when he opened the wispy black tissue and revealed the decadent lingerie he had special ordered, that would be a treat for later, when they had much more time for...activities.

 

He looked over to his hunter stretched out on his bed from where he was kneeling at the suitcase and grinned when he saw the top of a spiky brown head and bright, curious green eyes peeking over the edge of the mattress. He palmed the much smaller box that had hidden in the corner of the bag and knee-walked back to the bed. He kept the hand with the box out of sight and leaned his torso up against the side of the bed, raising the other hand and crooking a finger playfully at Dean. Dean sat up and scooted to the edge, draping his legs on either side of Castiel's body.

\- -

“I have something for you, love. A birthday gift.” A giant smile split Dean's face and he held out his hands in front of him and made a grabby motion. “Gimme!” Cas chuckled at him and the sound was honeyed, low and pleased, and God did he love the sound of it. He watched Cas tap one finger in the center of his gorgeous, amazing lips and raise an eyebrow. Dean laughed all the way down to Cas' mouth, the sound of it humming between their lips as they kissed deeply. He moaned when Cas sucked his lower lip into his mouth and nipped it. Caught up in the feel of Cas' tongue stroking the roof of his mouth, he slid off the bed and dropped into Cas' lap, legs wrapping around his waist and arms around his broad shoulders. When Cas slipped his arms around him he felt a small, velvety square drag along his spine and his eyes popped open and he sat up. Cas moaned softly as his ass pressed down against his thick, hard cock and he bit his lip, breathing in slowly through his nose.

 

Cas cleared his throat and when he spoke his voice was just the tiniest bit strained, hoarse around the edges. “That was...pleasantly, not the way I planned that.” Dean laughed and reached behind him for whatever Cas held in his hand. The Watcher tutted at him and pulled his hand away, bringing it in front, held it up, palm flat with a hunter green velvet ring box dead center. The breath died in Dean's lungs and he looked between the box and Cas' face, searching for signs of a joke. Cas' expression was wide open, earnest. Was Cas giving him...a ring?

 

Cas rolled his eyes good naturedly and grabbed one of Dean's hands and put the box in it. Dean opened it with fumbling, shaking fingers to see an antiqued titanium band nestled in the black holder. He stared at it.

 

“Dean? You should probably breathe now.” Cas chuckled, but his voice sounded worried now. He sucked in a soul deep breath and looked up at Cas from the ring with wide eyes. “Cas...” Cas plucked the ring from the box and held it between his thumb and first finger. Dean could see tiny engravings on the inside of the band now that it was held up in the soft light. “Dean, this isn't to scare you. This is a promise to you, for all the things that I want to share with you. The engravings inside are Enochian, the language of the angels. They say 'love', 'friend', and 'loyal'. I love you, Dean.”

 

Dean was hyperventilating slowly, tears building in his eyes. He wasn't scared. “Cas...I love you, too. I can't believe you did this for _me._ ” Cas grabbed onto his chin, pulled his face in close. “Why wouldn't I do this for you? I don't ever want to hear you talking like you don't think you deserve this. _You_ are what I want, Dean, and I mean to have you for as long as you'll have me.” He sobbed out a moan as Cas slid the ring onto the third finger of his right hand and kissed it. Dean wound his fingers through Cas' hair and crashed their lips together breathing the Watcher in as he rode his body down until he was laying back on the carpet. He ground their hips together slowly and buried his face in Cas' neck. He whispered, voice rough with emotion, “I love you, Cas. Make love to me...please.” Cas sighed happily and stroked a hand over his cheek before he rolled them. Deep blue eyes like pools of midnight sky glittered down at him.

 

“Always, Dean. Forever.”

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh god...i'm so sorry this had to happen.
> 
> i felt so bad for you people (and me dammit!) that i gave you some smut to soften the blow....i hope.
> 
>  
> 
> brace yourselves, darlings.
> 
> i will be here to cuddle you through the pain that is only beginning. don't leave me yet.

 

Dean rolled over and groaned as a beam of sunlight that had snuck in around the curtains hit him square in the face. What time was it? He reached out blindly toward the nightstand where his phone usually sat and his eyes popped open when all he felt was an open drawer and a handful of condoms scattered across the top of the smooth wood.

 

Oh. 

 

Oh yeah. He was at Cas’. He grinned. He was at Cas’, in Cas’ bed, where they had spent the entire night. Well, mostly in bed.  He looked down at the ring on his finger and his heart felt like it would burst. After Cas had slipped the slim silver band on his hand, they had made love right there on the rug next to the bed. And then again on the edge of the bed. And again with Dean riding him slowly, breathing into each other’s mouths as they kissed and touched and took everything they could from each trembling moment their bodies were connected. They hadn’t stopped until they had almost passed out with the soft edge of dawn teasing at the windows, as if they physically couldn’t bear to be apart for even the brief seconds it took to snatch another condom from the ever dwindling pile, falling asleep mid-kiss, wrapped up in each other’s sweat drenched skin.

 

He rolled to his other side to look at Cas who must have untangled them at one point, and his smile faded when he saw the empty space where his Watcher had occupied. He sat up in a panic, luxe red silk sheets that smelled like marathon sex and Cas’ cologne pooling in his lap as he looked around. Had Cas left? Snuck out when he realized he’d made a mistake with Dean?

 

He shook his head. Wait, _no_ …this was Cas’ house…why would he sneak out? But where was he?

 

He was out of bed and searching around on the floor for his jeans when the bedroom door swung open, and he looked up to see a deliciously shirtless Cas filling the doorway with two mugs of coffee in his hands and Dean’s cell phone tucked into the waistband of his sweats. Dean breathed a sigh of relief, and it must have been obvious as hell, because Cas’ head tilted just slightly to the side, confusion on his face. “Did you think that I had left, Dean?”

 

Dean blushed and stood, still naked with his jeans clutched in his hand and sat on the bed, avoiding eye contact. He heard the thunk of Cas setting the mugs down on the bureau and suddenly found himself with a lapful of gorgeously rumpled Watcher as Cas straddled his hips. Hands slid over his face and lifted his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, love. I swear it. I meant everything I said, everything we did.” Blue eyes heated, clearly remembering the scenes of the night before, and the fingers tightened on him. “You’re mine now, little hunter. I’m never letting you go.” Dean groaned as Cas murmured the words against his lips and they kissed, a soft slide of tongues evolving quickly into a deep, bruising claiming of his mouth by Cas’. Cas growled into his mouth and pushed him down onto his back without breaking the kiss, Cas’ hands bracing himself above Dean against the bed as he ground his clothed lower body down into Dean’s bare, rapidly hardening groin. 

 

Fuck. Cas was seriously gonna try to make him come again. Four months ago if someone had told him that his prim, tweed-clad  Watcher slash librarian  was a freaking demon in the sack he would have laughed his ass off.  Now with the man currently rocking his hips in a perfect sliding rhythm that managed to set his every nerve on fire, completely ignoring the fact that they had fucked at least five times in the last night alone, all he could do was submit to the evidence that Cas was apparently, tirelessly insatiable.

 

Cas moved his lips to his neck and he moaned. “Fuck…Cas…baby you’re gonna kill me.” Cas laughed lowly against his skin, and the pleased… _fuck_ …sound drove him just that much more insane. He didn’t know if he even had any come left, but Cas seemed determined to wring it out of him one way or another. He ran his hands over Cas’ back, feeling the hidden muscle moving sinuously beneath that smooth skin, and down to slide under the back of his soft jersey sweatpants. He bucked up into Cas when he felt nothing but Watcher underneath the clothes and they moaned together as Dean shoved the pants down enough for Cas’ fucking gorgeous cock to spring out from where it had been trapped against his belly and slap lightly against Dean’s. The phone tumbled out from the waistband and landed somewhere on the bed, forgotten for the sake of the thrill of being skin close to Cas again. 

 

He threw his head back as Cas’ hand wrapped around both of their aching lengths and stroked, maddeningly slowly, hips still rolling just enough so that it was double the sensation. Cas’ other hand reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, hauling him up onto his elbows, their faces bare inches apart, and Dean was lost in this man. Gone. Done forever. Ruined for life. 

 

He was gasping, so fucking close with Cas’ hand tight around them both moving so slowly he could die. He bucked his hips as hard as he could with the limited leverage he had with his legs hanging off the bed and felt a thrill of pleasure shoot through him when Cas grunted and picked the pace up just slightly. He closed the gap between their lips and Dean could feel more than hear Cas’ whispered “Mine, mine, mine…” against his mouth and his fingers fisted into the sheets as he came with a hoarse shout. Cas continued to stroke him through the shuddering aftershocks and kissed him roughly as he tumbled over the edge half a minute later. 

 

He fell back against the bed with Cas’ weight collapsing down onto his chest, feeling the Watcher’s heaving breath between the nips and kisses pressed to the corners of his mouth and jaw. 

\- - 

 

He had set his phone to charge on the nightstand plugged into Cas’ universal charger as they showered. Cas had kissed him through the entire shower, but softly, tenderly this time, simply enjoying the feel of their mouths together as they washed each other leisurely. They drank their fill of each other’s bodies once again and they continued to touch as they dried off, and kissed their way back into the bedroom, breathless, laughing. 

 

Had he ever been so freaking happy? He had found perfect contentedness in Cas’ body wrapped around his. He dressed in Cas’ clothes and shivered under the hot blue stare of Cas’ eyes as he did. He seriously considered stripping off again and pulling the Watcher back into bed, but his body was sore and aching in the most delicious way that he was pretty sure meant he was going to be walking weird for at least the next day. 

 

He sighed and walked over to the nightstand to retrieve his phone, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed as he turned it on. The phone powered up and immediately exploded with messages. Bobby had left a voicemail, so had the girls. He figured since no one had broken down Cas’ door to make sure they were alright, that they assumed they were together and safe and needed time to be alone. There were a few texts from the girls, mostly seriously inappropriate suggestive messages from Charlie that had him blushing scarlet and hot. “Jesus, Charlie. You kiss your mother with that mouth?” The last two texts on his screen were from Sam, had come in just a little while before they had finished their shower. One was a picture message. His brow furrowed in confusion. Sam was over at his friend Brady’s…but maybe he had gotten worried about Dean and texted. But the picture? 

 

He shrugged. Hafta check it out to find out. He clicked on the picture message first and nearly dropped the phone in shock with a yell. 

\- -

Castiel was pulling a belt through his slacks when he heard Dean’s shout. He whirled and rushed to Dean to see him staring down at his phone with a horrified look on his face. The screen had gone black again, and he pried the device from Dean’s fingers, swiping his thumb over the screen to bring whatever had been there back. Fear shot through him to his toes as he saw what it was. 

 

There was a picture on the screen. Sam was beaten, bloody, tied to a chair and gagged. The yellow eyed demon was holding Sam’s head up by his hair and grinning maniacally over the boy’s shoulder. There was an address attached to the picture, which Castiel recognized as an abandoned boardinghouse several hours away from Sioux Falls . He and Dean had investigated several claims of it being haunted months ago. “There…” Dean cleared his throat with a cough that sounded like a gag. “There was another text there from Sam.” His hunter’s voice was shaking.

 

Castiel grabbed onto Dean’s hand and squeezed as he clicked out of the picture and brought up the text message. 

 

**[Sam: I have a birthday present for you Dean. Come alone and you might get it in one piece.]**

 

“Good lord…” Dean snatched the phone from his hand and read the message. A wordless shout of rage rang out through the small room. Dean exploded up from the bed, aiming for the door, and Castiel grabbed his arm to pull him around to face him. “Dean, no. You can’t go alone. We need to strategize. We will get Sam back…I swear it. Do not do anything rash, please.” 

 

He released Dean’s arm when he felt the hunter sag in his grip. His mind was racing with what needed to be done, and therefore missed the look of fierce determination cross Dean’s face mere seconds before his arm cocked back and threw a punch at Castiel’s jaw. 

 

The Watcher was unconscious in a heap on the floor when the unholy roar of screaming metal tore out of the driveway.

\- - -

 

Castiel was woken up by hands shaking him. He opened his eyes and managed to throw up a hand as he saw Charlie raise a hand to slap him. “Girls....what are you doing here?” and then he remembered Dean punching him after Castiel had tried to stop the hunter from going off to save his brother alone. He groaned. “Dean....dammit.” 

 

Jo helped him sit up and Charlie snapped her fingers in his face. “Cas! What about Dean? Where is he? Something is wrong.” He looked up at the redhead. “How did you know?” He was confused, he didn't think Dean would have stopped to call anyone to let them know what had happened. Charlie looked confused too. “Know what? All we know is that Bobby called us this afternoon after he went to go pick Sammy up from his friend Brady's and found the house practically destroyed, the kid's parents dead, and Sam and the kid gone. What are you talking about?” Castiel scrambled to his feet. “Dean received a message sent from Sam's phone this afternoon. Sam has been taken by the yellow eyed demon and the message told Dean to come alone or Sam would be hurt or killed. I do not know about the other boy, but Sam is being held at the boardinghouse that Dean and I investigated some time ago. I....I believe that Sam has been taken by the demon in hopes of getting Dean to fulfill a prophecy that has been brought to my attention recently. I do not know how long ago he left, but Dean has gone after the yellow eyed demon. Alone.” 

 

Jo's jaw dropped open. “Did Dean know about this prophecy of yours?” Castiel looked away and shook his head. “Aw, man! What do we do!?”

 

Castiel began to make his way down the stairs to his weapon's chest to gather things. He was going after Dean. He had been forced to keep the prophecy a secret, and the boy he loved was about to die because of it. He had to stop it, save his hunter. “You will stay here, or go to Bobby's. I will go after Dean.” Charlie squawked indignantly. “You can't just run off all renegade, Cas! You need help!” He shook his head again. “Charlie...”

 

“No Cas! You just let him go alone and you kept this prophecy business from him!” Her hands were on his hips and her eyes were snapping with that all-too familiar look of crackling anger. He held out a hand. “Charlie, as the soon-to-be-purple area of my jaw will attest, I did not _let_ him go! And I kept things from him, yes, unfortunately I do not serve him, but the Council, and they forbid me from revealing the knowledge. Now, I must go. I do not know how much of a head start he has gotten and I am loathe to let him be in the presence of that demon alone for longer than I must. So if you will excuse me...” With his arms loaded down with weapons he ran for the driveway and his car, leaving the girls standing in the doorway with shocked faces.

 

He had to find Dean. 

\- - -

 

Driving with single-minded determination, Dean found the area near the old boardinghouse and parked the Impala a few miles away so that the loud roar of the engine would not give him away. The wind was bitter cold and biting as it tore through his clothes. Cas' clothes. He stopped walking and stood with his eyes squeezed shut, feeling the ring digging into his skin. He punched Cas. His brain had been on auto-pilot, screaming “Find Sammy!” over and over again and it wasn't until he had been miles away from Cas' house did it finally dawn on him what he had done. Cas had begged him not to go alone, and he'd reacted. The yellow eyed demon had said to come alone, and fuck if it wasn't a stupid idea that had “TRAP!” written all over it, but he couldn't risk the demon hurting Sam any more.

 

The sun was dipping lower in the sky behind the sagging shell of the abandoned building. He saw broken out windows hidden in the shadows and his fingers clenched into fists when he realized that they were boarded up. That yellow eyed bastard had prepared for this. “Hold out for me, Sammy. I'm comin'.” He hoped his brother was as alright as he could be for being kidnapped and held hostage, and that when they saw he was alone that they would leave Sam be. 

 

Climbing up onto the rotted porch over the mess of the stairs, he crept up beside the front door and stood to the side when he opened the door as quietly as possible. When nothing jumped out at him, he swung around the opening, Colt raised and ready in a teacup grip. He swept the room with the gun and eyes and saw nothing. He found a broken off piece of wood on the dusty floor and jammed it between the door frame and closed it. He wasn't about to get locked in this fucking place. Looking back around the room, he tried to find signs of Sam or anyone, but the floor was a riot of dusty footprints, leading everywhere and nowhere. He tried a few doors in the wide main room, finding all but one locked and unpickable. Well that was ominous.

 

He sighed and went through the open door, finding a darkened hallway, faint strains of reddish sunset peeking around cracks in the boarded windows on the other end. There was a staircase to his right and a door that was pushed just open to his left. 

 

“So good of you to come, Dean. I was really questioning how badly you wanted your present.” The voice floated around him, no clues as to where it had come from. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Thanks for havin' me.” He heard faint creaking on the stairs and he swung the gun in that direction. Try to get him talking. “Y'know....you really oughta talk to your contractor. Looks like you got some termite damage.” A wheezing laugh came from somewhere close. “Oh, good. The feeble banter portion of the fight. Why don't we just cut to the...”

 

Dean spun in toward the kitchen and squeezed the trigger. The bullet slammed into the crumbling wall a fraction of an inch from the demon's head. He was grinning toothily. “Nice shot, Dean my boy! But you're not going to kill me with that thing.” Dean wasn't listening as he drew back the hammer and cocked another round. “Don't be so sure, asshole.” He moved as Yellow Eyes moved, keeping him in his sight as the demon circled him. “No, Dean. You don't understand your part in all this, do you? You are not the hunter here. You are the lamb. The sacrifice. If you hadn't come, the party wouldn't have started.” The grin stretched so hard he almost expected the face of the meatsuit Yellow Eyes was wearing to split with it. “Happy birthday, Dean.” He snapped his fingers and disappeared, laughter ringing and echoing around him. 

 

He heard the sound of a muffled scream from above and tore up the stairs as fast as he could.

\- - -

 

Dusk was about to fall when Castiel found the Impala on the side of the road two miles from the boardinghouse. He must have decided on a stealthy entrance. Castiel blasted past the car. He didn't have time for stealth. Who knew what would happen to the boys while he tried to come up without giving himself away. No. This would be a guns-blazing entrance.

 

As he pulled up in front of the house, he could see candle light flickering in an upstairs window, the rest of the windows dark, leading him to assume that was where they would be found. He threw salt in careless lines and drew hasty devil's traps at the doors as he went, rushing to find the stairs. He quieted his steps as he heard voices, and tried to listen through the walls. 

 

He gasped when he heard Dean's voice, broken. “Please don't! Wait! I'll do it! I'll do it if you promise to let Sammy go and never come back for him! I'll make the deal.” He could hear Sam screaming “No!” from behind a gag.

 

Castiel burst through the door to see the Yellow Eyed demon tilting Dean's face up to kiss. He grabbed onto Dean's arm and pulled him in front of his body, a knife held to his throat as Castiel stopped in his tracks. He locked eyes with Dean, his hunter's green eyes looking pointedly down at the floor and back to Castiel. Was he trying to say something? Castiel's eyes flicked to the ground and noticed the Colt lying there where apparently Dean had dropped it or thrown it. He shook his head, a bare shift to the left and the right. He wouldn't reach it in time, wouldn't be able to squeeze off a shot before Yellow Eyes could cut his hunter's throat. He couldn't risk it.

 

Lightning quick Dean fished a vial of holy water from his pocket and splashed it over his shoulder, throwing himself to the side when the demon screamed in pain. Castiel dove for the gun, snatching it up and lined up a head shot. Time slowed between pulling down on the trigger and the bullet exploding from the barrel, and the demon managed to move out of the way, the bullet slamming into his thigh instead. Electricity crackled through the wound, flashing through the skin of the demon's vessel and the mouth opened wide, smoke pouring from its mouth and out a hole in the window before Castiel could fire again.

 

Dean scrambled to his feet and stumbled over to Sam, tugging at the ropes binding him, trying to carefully unknot the gag from where it was cruelly tangled in his long hair. Dean kept coughing, and as Castiel got a better look at his hunter's face, he realized he wasn't so much coughing as choking back sobs as he struggled to get his brother free with shaking fingers. He bit out a curse and dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to Sam's arm where it was tied to the chair. Sam's voice came softly, hoarse. “Dean...Dean it's ok. I'm ok. Get your knife and cut the ropes, Dean. We're all ok.” Castiel's heart ached for his lover and in the next moment he was by his side, pulling his own blade and cradling Dean against him as he sawed at Sam's ropes. 

 

When Sam was free Castiel reached for him, pulled him into his side and they all held onto each other. Sam pulled away first. “How could you do it Dean? You know he never would have left me alone, especially once you were gone! Why would you let yourself go to Hell?!”

 

Dean reared back and Castiel let them both go. “For you, you stupid ass! I would do anything to make sure you were safe!” Dean jumped up and dashed the tears from his cheeks as he ran from the room. Castiel helped Sam up and followed calling out for Dean. He heard the door slam and knew Dean would run until he hit the door of the Impala. 

 

Castiel slipped an arm under Sam's and supported him as they made their way down to where his car was parked in the driveway. He drove with Sam tucked into the front seat, crying silently against the door, a knot of tension eating him alive inside. He had to tell Dean about the prophecy now....he had interfered despite Naomi's warning. 

 

Everything was coming apart at the seams when mere hours ago life had been perfect.

 

He didn't realize how far apart things had come until he pulled up in front of Dean's house and saw a familiarly unfamiliar black Towncar parked outside. 

 

The council had arrived.

 

Bloody hell.

\- - - 

 

Dean had escaped from the living room that was currently hosting two arguing English assholes, to the freezing front porch, head in his hands as he tried to wrap his brain around what Naomi had told him before Cas pulled up a half an hour after he had. 

 

Sam had grabbed him in a hug before running snuffling and crying to his room to slam the door. Bobby had given him a look and he'd hung his head. Yeah, he'd been more than ready to do that demon deal. The one thing that Dad had drilled into him since he'd been a kid was “Protect Sammy.” And dammit, that's what he'd been doing. Sacrificing himself for Sam, because Sam was special, Sam was gonna make something of himself, more than Dean ever could. 

 

He had been so angry when Cas had shown up, he'd been ready, resigned, and now it was over? Was Cas out there somewhere thinking he was some big hero? That he had ridden in like a dark knight and saved the day? 

 

Dean looked down at the ring on his finger and fought the urge to pull it off and chuck it into the woods. A promise, Cas had said. Loyalty he'd said. What the fuck kind of loyalty meant you lied to the person you supposedly loved and left them and their family in danger? Cas had come into the living room with a grim face, and Dean knew what Naomi had said was true.

 

There was a prophecy. Two actually, that they believed talked about Dean. Some 'Righteous Man' nonsense. Like he was supposed to believe that he would be responsible for setting Lucifer free. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. Well...the first prophecy did say that he would go to Hell and break the “first seal,” whatever that meant. And he had been seconds away from sealing the deal (with a fucking kiss no less) to save Sam and let himself be taken to Hell...

 

He groaned. How was it possible that the Universe could continually fuck him whenever things got good. It happened over and over again. He should have known that falling in love with Cas was tempting fate.

 

He stiffened when he heard the screen door creak open and slap back into the frame. Hesitant steps came up behind him. He didn't need to turn around, he knew who it was, and he so did not want to see his face right now. “What do you want, Cas? There's nothing you can say to me right now. You had the chance to tell me about this prophecy dozens of times and you never said a word.”

 

Cas sighed and walked down the short stairs to stand on the winter-faded grass and frozen dirt in front of him. “Dean, I wanted to tell you.”

 

Dean just shook his head. “Liar. At the very least you should have said something last night when you were declaring your love and 'loyalty' to me before fucking me into the mattress for hours. Guess it wasn't important.” His voice was bleak, trying to be purposely empty of emotion as he tried not to cry.

 

Cas growled and Dean felt his hand ghost near his head, as if the Watcher would grab onto his hair and force him to look up. He cleared his throat and the hand disappeared. “In matters of tradition and protocol, I must answer to the Council.”

 

Dean finally whipped his head up to stare at Cas in disbelief. That was how it was going to be? Cold as ice and using the Council as an excuse? Un-fucking-believable. “Dean....” The perfect face broke just slightly. “I...my role in this...was very specific. I was to observe, report, and above everything I was forbidden to interfere. Matters of destiny are not to be trifled with.” He scoffed. “Yeah, that's why you busted in there after everything. If you had told me...I could have kept Sammy safe, never would have let him...” His voice cracked at the end, and there was that fucking hand again. If Cas touched him...he didn't know if he would hurt him or beg him to hold him. “Dean...please.” He looked at Cas. “How could you do this to me, Cas.” He stood, to get away from that hand, that unassuming piece of flesh and bone that seemed to radiate an apology. “I am so sorry Dean....you have to understand...” He came closer, as if to cup Dean's cheek and he jerked away. “If you touch me right now, I'll kill you.”

 

He turned and didn't look back as he slammed the door into the house and missed Cas crashing to his knees, face buried in his hands.

\- - 

 

When Castiel had emptied himself of tears, the stinging tracks of bitterness and regret freezing to his cheeks and hands, he gathered himself, and entered the house, prepared to face whatever challenges lay before him to earn back the trust his foolishness had shattered. 

 

He heard Naomi's voice from the living room as he stepped inside. “We're not in the business of fair, Mr. Winchester. We are fighting a war.”

 

Castiel laughed harshly and the occupants of the living room turned to look at him. “You're _waging_ a war. He and all the other hunters out there are fighting it. There is a difference.”

 

Naomi cast him a withering look. “Mr. Novak, if you don't mind...”

 

“Why? You've said what you came to say, it is finished. We're finished.” He avoided Dean's angry eyes. They couldn't be finished. What they had together...it was too rare, to special to throw away.

 

Naomi shook her head. “Not quite, Castiel. Revealing the prophecy to Dean was only half of why the Council has come. The hunter is not the only one who must perform to standards in this situation. You failed to do your sworn duty to the Council and uphold your responsibilities as Watcher and not interfere. I've recommended to the Council, and they have agreed, that you be relieved of your duties as Watcher immediately. You're fired, Castiel.”

 

Dean made a sound of surprise and Castiel stared at Naomi, taken aback. “On what grounds?!”

 

She looked between he and Dean. “Your...affection...for your charge has rendered you incapable of clear and impartial judgment. Again. We had hoped by giving you another chance, the mistakes you made with Samandriel would be avoided, but it appears we were grossly mistaken, and the love you clearly bear for one another is useless to the cause.” Dean looked away from him then. “It would be best if you had no further contact with the hunter.” Castiel bristled. “I am not going anywhere.” His words were for Naomi, but he hoped the message went through to Dean as well.

 

Naomi stood and began slipping into a fine wool coat. She looked to him. “No, well, I didn't really expect you would adhere to that. However, when the council assigns a new Watcher, if you interfere or countermand his or her authority in any way, you will be dealt with. Are we clear?”

 

Gauntlet thrown, Castiel stared at her. “Oh, we are very clear.”

 

She nodded and tossed a careless goodbye to Bobby. She stood before Dean and looked down and him. “You should be very proud, Dean. You bested Azazel, and saved your brother. Congratulations.”

 

Dean snarled. “Bite me, bitch.”

 

Her dry laugh sounded throughout the room. “Yes. Colorful boy.”

 

When the door thudded resolutely shut, the tension in the room mounted higher than ever.

 

Bobby broke it by clearing his throat. “Cas...I think you had better go now.”

 

Castiel sighed and turned. With his hand on the doorknob he looked over his shoulder and found Dean staring at him, emotions racing over his beautiful face. “I love you, Dean. Please do not forget that.”

 

If there was a response, Castiel did not hear it as he walked out of the house.

\- - -

 

Mayor Nick D'iavolo was a patient man, not generally prone to anger, but in that exact moment, he was seething with fury at the demon writhing in pain at his feet.

 

“You utter fucking moron. You have risked everything I have worked for with your idiocy tonight.”

 

The man raised his hands in supplication, begging for mercy. Nick snarled and kicked him in the face, watching him fall back to the carpet, blood blossoming on his pale skin. He was about to unleash every ounce of rage upon him with fists and feet when Lilith, who had remained silent in the corner of the office spoke up. “Father, wait. Allow me to punish him for you.” He turned and looked at the demon masquerading as his teenage daughter and smiled. “Of course, darling.” 

 

The dainty girl stepped forward with a sweet, evil smile spreading over her face as her eyes rolled to pale white.

 

Azazel screamed in fear. “Wait, wait! It wasn't me! The Watcher! He interrupted just as I was about to seal the deal with the Winchester boy! It wasn't me!!!” 

 

His pleas fell on deaf ears as Lilith tore into his flesh and the room filled with shrieks of pain and terror.

\- - -

 

The next morning found Castiel sleeping fitfully on the sofa in his living room. He could not bear to climb the stairs to the bedroom, to see the sheets in the careless disarray that their lovemaking had left, to see Dean's clothes spread out on the floor where they had been thrown in the mindless rush of passion, to smell the scent of Dean in every corner of the room. 

 

He woke with a start, shooting up to sit as he tried to identify whatever had broken him out of his sleep.

 

The house was quiet. 

 

Too quiet.

 

He slipped a dagger from where he had tucked it beneath the pillow and crouched, ears straining for anything at all. 

 

Nothing.

 

He stood slowly, and crept to the front door, to peek out of the curtain to see if anything was on the porch. 

 

Nothing.

 

He huffed a frustrated sigh and stood, shoulders sagging as he laughed wearily at his paranoia.

 

He never heard the girl in soft-soled Mary Janes slip behind him and felt only a moment of surprised pain as she thrust the knife into his spine, twisting cruelly as he fell dying to the rug.

\- - -

 

Dean was parked in front of Cas' house. He had been fighting himself for half an hour to go in and talk to his Watcher, the man he had loved.

 

Dammit...still loved.

 

He had barely slept last night, and when Bobby had seen his haggard, pale face he had gruffed, “Go on. Go talk to him, idjit. He fucked up, sure, but who hasn't? You love him, he loves you. That doesn't change because some stuck up English dicks gave him an order. He came when it mattered didn't he?”

 

He'd hung his head and his uncle had clapped him on the back, shoved his keys into his hand and all but kicked him out of the door.

 

Dean looked up at Cas' front door for the thousandth time and jerked up straight as he saw Cas pull the curtain aside to look out the window. 

 

His heart was pounding as he threw open the driver's side door and ran as fast as he could up the walk.

 

There had been someone standing behind Cas. A pale, sultry blonde with a wicked smile curving blood red lips, a knife held up in front of her.

 

He slammed into the front door and yanked it open. A scream tore from his throat as his mind tried to deny what he saw before him.

 

No. No! Nononononono....

 

He dropped to his knees beside Cas' prone form on the ground, blood seeping faster than he'd ever thought possible into a pool beneath him. He grabbed onto Cas' shoulders and hauled him up, gagging when he saw the ragged wound in his lower back. 

 

No! Fucking no, Goddammit! Cas couldn't be dead. No, God please no!

 

He sucked in a breath as he heard the creak of a shoe on hardwood and looked up, eyes wild to see a tall, blonde man in a designer suit step out from the darkened kitchen. 

 

“Ahh...you must be Dean Winchester. Mayor D'iavolo. Pleasure to meet you.” The man looked down at Cas and a ridiculously sad look crossed his face. “Unfortunate circumstances, I know. But it had to be done, son. I have campaign promises to keep, you see. Things must go according to plan, or chaos will reign.” 

 

Dean roared and tried to lunge at the man, but the next thing he knew, he found himself slammed against the wall, held immobile. The girl, Lilith he thought her name was, slid out of the shadows behind D'iavolo, hand raised. She was a demon. Fuck.

 

The mayor continued to speak in his stupid fake-sad voice. “I'm going to assume you know about the prophecy, hmm? Yes, well, my boy, I need you to go to Hell, so that Lucifer will be released in time to take his rightful vessel.” The man smiled and motioned to his own body. “I am prepared to make you a deal. I can bring him back, no strings attached, he and your family will be safe if you agree.”

 

Dean laughed, strained as his lungs were constricted. “Yeah, like I believed that deal from Yellow Eyes before. You'll kill them all.”

 

The man's face darkened momentarily before that smooth business-like mask was back in place. “Azazel has been taken care of, Dean. I have no interest in harming your family. If you refuse however, I will kill them. One by one, until you agree. It's up to you, son. I can bring your Watcher back, and you do what I want, or your entire family dies bloody before your eyes, and then there will be nothing that can bring them back.” 

 

Dean stared down at Cas on the floor for a long, long moment, tears dripping silently down his face before he looked up again, locking his gaze with the pale blue eyes of the man before him. 

 

“Do it. I'll do it. Don't fucking hurt them...please.” His voice was a broken whisper.

 

The man smiled. “Good choice, son. He would be proud of you, I think.”

 

Lilith walked in close until her fluffy pink and white polka-dotted dress was brushing against his thighs. “Gotta seal it with a kiss, Dean.” She giggled, and he thought he would throw up on her. She leaned into him and pressed cool lips against his, harder and harder until he was closing his eyes and struggling to breathe. Almost as soon as it began, the kiss was over and she was gone.

 

His eyes snapped open and found the room empty save for Cas laying on the floor. 

 

He jumped as Cas' eyes flew open and a gasping breath was drawn through his mouth, filling his lungs as he scrambled to his knees. 

 

He stared up at Dean with horror. 

 

“Dean...no. No...please tell me you didn't.” The last word came out on a sob and Dean fell to his knees, his hands clutching at Cas' face, bringing them close together. “Of course I did you stupid bastard. I love you.” He kissed him, desperate, hard as Cas clung to him. He pulled back a minute later, sliding his lips to Cas' ear. “Cas...you gotta promise me...take care of Sammy. He's gonna need you.” Cas shoved him back and stared at him. “Dean no!” 

 

He shook his head. There was nothing he could do...he had to face this now. But he could tell Cas one last thing before they took him, he was sure they wouldn't wait long.

 

His hands slid over Cas face, holding him as his eyes flew wildly over Dean's. “Cas, listen to me.” He shook Cas by his face gently. “Listen. I love you. I will _always_ love you. But I have to do this. Tell everyone that I'm gonna be ok, and that I love them. You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other.” Cas broke apart in his hands and he wrapped his arms around him, his sobbing body heaving against Dean's chest as he whispered in his ear. “You have to be strong, baby.” He lifted his face and pressed a kiss to his lips as he wiped his tears. 

 

“The hardest thing in the world, Cas...is to live in it. Live for me.” 

 

As his last words were spoken, a spike of pain shot through him from the top of his head to his feet and he gasped, falling back from Cas. Blood began gushing from his mouth and he choked around it, staring at Cas in fear as his vision went gray. 

 

“I....I love you...Cas. I love you.”

 

The words died on his lips as he dropped to the floor in front of Cas who was quickly going hysterical. 

 

One last thought flitted through his mind as he died. 

 

He hoped they would be alright with out him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> direct quotes taken from transcripts from episodes: prophecy girl, helpless, and the gift.
> 
> too sad to post links right now. maybe later.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastair prepares for the Righteous Man.
> 
> (warning for mildly graphic crack scenes :D)

 

Deep within the molten recesses of the home sweet hellfire of the Pit, Alastair was charged with giddiness as if someone had laid a live wire against his very skin. He paused briefly to make a mental note, live wires would be an exciting addition to the little fete he was preparing for. He had received word some time ago that the Righteous Man would finally be making his much anticipated debut in the humble abode in which Alastair held court. For he was Hell's Grand Inquisitor, Master of Tortures (and Undefeated Chili Cook-off Champion for the last three millenia, though he didn't like to brag.)

 

He hummed a catchy little Fred Astaire tune he had picked up at one point or another quietly to himself as he made his final rounds about the room, stroking a finger along the gleaming blades laid out on velvet draped tables. With a hand to his chin he did his best to think of anything he might have forgotten in his rush to prepare for the guest of honor. He slapped a hand to his forehead and chuckled. How silly of him to have forgotten to build a fire!

 

He crossed to the fireplace and looked critically at the pile of kindling stacked neatly squirming next to the grand black marble mantle. Gripping two perfect souls by the thoughtful loops of rough jute rope that bound their legs and arms together, he tossed them onto the cold bed of charred bones in the gaping maw of the fireplace. Lifting the delicate can of fuel, he doused them, and grinned at the muffled sounds of panic as he struck long match against his fingernail. He sighed in satisfaction, holding his hands out to feel the heat against his skin. Ahh yes, he thought, a cheerfully screaming fire enhanced the mood of any gathering.

 

He was pulled from his thoughts at the knock on the door. Bustling over to the entrance, he threw it wide to greet his visitors. Four demons were flanking a struggling young man, arms straining with effort, bound with hands behind his back. Alastair laughed openly as one of the young man's legs jerked out of the hold one of his captors had and a booted foot crunched delightfully as it connected with meat and bone.

 

“Ah ah now, Mr. Winchester. Let's not use up all of that wonderful fight yet! I've got so many wonderful things planned, you wouldn't want to ruin them now, would you?” Alastair chided as the hooded head whipped toward the sound of his crooning voice. “Let's have a look at you now, shall we?” He reached out and plucked the burlap hood off of him and sighed at the fierce look on one of the most beautiful faces he'd ever seen. He leaned in, fingers twisting into strands of sweat-soaked hair, to brush his lips against an ear. “You will look _so_ pretty when you scream for me, Dean.”

 

\- -

 

Dean Winchester turned out to be an absolute pleasure to have stretched out on his table. Leather straps bound him breathtakingly nude at wrists, chest, groin and ankles. Alastair had purposely left the mouth strap loose, hoping to wrench sweet music from the lips of the Righteous Man, but so far, he had been disappointed in that area. But in others...oh, he was perfect. He took so much, every slice, every brand, everything, day after day, week after week and merely clenched that gracefully scuplted jaw and bore through the pain.

 

With a sigh Alastair dropped the scalpel he had been employing back onto the table and wiped his hands on his apron. As much as he wanted to play and never stop, he did have a job to do here. “Dean, Dean, Dean...must we do this again? My offer is the same as ever it was. All of this, all of the _pain_ , all of the _torment_ , it can all end. Simply say yes, and become my pupil. You could be a Master in your own right, if you would honor me with the chance to teach you.” He held his breath as he waited for Dean's answer. That jaw clenched ever tighter, and his head shook back and forth. “No. I won't do it.” His voice was hoarse, strained with the pain he was fighting so bravely against. Alastair's breath shuddered out of his body, and he couldn't decide if he felt ashamed at how pleased he was to hear the answer yet again.

 

\- -

 

That evening, after Dean had been cleaned up and tucked away in his cage beside Alastair's bed, there came a knock at the door. Dean flinched when he patted his head and padded over the gloriously warm brimstone beneath his feet to slip out of the door. He smiled a warm greeting at his oldest friend, raising her small, pale hand to kiss.

 

“Lilith! What a pleasant surprise to see you here. Did you grow weary of playing make-believe for the meatsuits up there in that arctic nightmare?” She smiled and shook her blonde head. “No, Alastair. I've come for word of your progress. It is crucial that the Righteous Man break, and soon. Loathe as I am to take away your toys, but things must go according to schedule.” Alastair pouted and then sighed. “He is _incredibly_ strong willed. It is fascinating. But I have not broken him yet. I have not quite figured out how, much as it shames me to admit it, you know.” She nodded, her face screwed up adorably as she thought. Suddenly her face brightened and she giggled. Before he could do more than arch an eyebrow questioningly, she wrapped her hands around his head and pulled him down, ear to mouth and whispered sweetly to him. He pulled back and stared at her with impressed awe before pressing a kiss to her hair. “My dear, I bow to your genius. I shall attempt it at once!”

 

\- -

 

Bright and early the next day (although, in Hell, what was time anyway?), Dean was pulled from his cage again and bound with care to Alastair's table. When his tormentor did not immediately apply steel to skin, his eyes cracked open to look warily up at him. Alastair smiled warmly and treasured the jerk of muscle he felt when he laid a wide, open palm on Dean's stomach. Still, his captive said nothing. Alastair grinned, he did not think the silence would last long. Lilith's idea was truly, horrifically impressive. Dig within the boy's mind, his memories to find _something_ there to break him, if pain would not.

 

He stroked his hand along skin broken out with gooseflesh, up over his chest, teasing around his throat as Alastair walked around the table to stand at the head. He placed one hand on either side of Dean's head, and wiggled his fingers against his scalp. “Let's see what's inside, precious.”

 

As expected, he was rewarded with a loud, broken scream as he pressed himself inside the fragile skin of Dean's soul, searching, searching, flipping through memories of faces, places, like the pages of a magazine.

 

When familiar blue eyes flashed through his mind's eye he stopped with a gasp, focused his energy on teasing out those memories in particular. Scenes of passion, of heat, of love filled his vision, and a slow, evil smile curled the corners of his mouth.

 

He had never thought to see that one again. One of his most favorite toys of all, and now...he could play one against the other, and in turn, once Dean broke and his job was complete, he would have the boy forever, a perfect, compliant little pet.

 

He would relish the opportunity to steal from Castiel once more.

 

Oh yes, indeed.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big time ouchies.  
> i'm sorry.

 

The strain of digging one too many graves over the decades pulled the muscles of his back tight and aching. Or maybe it was this grave in particular that weighed so heavy on the old hunter's shoulders.

 

It was never supposed to be this way.

 

He should have been the one to go into the ground. Not Dean. Dean didn't deserve a secret grave dug on the edge of a cemetary of rusted metal.

 

Bobby sighed wearily as he dumped shovel after shovel into the hole and tried to ignore the way that Sam flinched each time dirt hit pine.

 

Sam stood between Jo and Charlie, as they held on to him, onto each other and tried to process grief that kids their age should never have to feel.

 

Dammit.

 

They needed something, _anything_ to do to occupy their minds. Underneath Sam's somber face was confusion, hurt, the need to know what had happened.

 

Something they were all keen to know.

 

Cas stood staring down at the foot of the grave, eyes fierce. Face hard and cold.

 

Bobby swallowed against the bile trying to rise in his throat. It had taken him twelve hours to give in to the nagging feeling of _wrong_ worming its way through his bourbon soaked guts. Twelve hours after Dean had left for Cas' place he'd driven the familiar miles with a sense of dread that he hadn't felt since he'd found John torn to pieces on a dusty floor in Chicago.

 

And then pulling into the driveway, he'd known something evil had happened in the pleasant little house. Dean's car sat in the driveway, door thrown open, neglected. He'd thought about pulling a gun as he made his way up the steps to another open door, but something told him there was nothing to fight in there anymore.

 

Fear turned his steps cautious as he'd walked into the darkened house.

 

Nearly thirty years as a hunter hadn't desensitized him enough for what he saw next.

 

First thing he'd noticed was blood. Too much blood for anyone to be left alive. In the middle of all that blood were two bodies, one wrapped around the other. Dean and Cas. Dead on the floor.

 

Anguish had nearly torn his heart in two when he'd seen lifeless green eyes staring up from a sea of blood on hardwood.

 

And then he'd seen Cas' back rise and fall, so shallow it could hardly qualify as breath. He'd gone to one knee, had been reaching out to pull Cas away when he heard it. The softest whisper. “He's dead Bobby. They killed me to get him to make that deal. Let me die.” The hunter pulled in a harsh breath.

 

To hell with that. He wasn't going to let the kid lay there and die. If he knew Dean, he knew that this was the last fucking thing that fool would have wanted from the man he loved.

 

He yanked Cas up by the back of his blood soaked shirt, fighting as he clung to Dean's body, until he was sat back on his ass. “Snap the fuck out of it, idjit. He's dead and there ain't no changin' it. If he gave himself up so that you could live, well then you had better fucking plan on honoring that, or I'll kill ya' myself.” It was brutal and it had killed him to say it, but those eyes snapped out of their catatonic daze and lit on fire with rage. “Yeah. Get pissed, Watcher. We got work to do.”

 

He'd carried Dean wrapped in a sheet out to his truck, laid him mournfully in the bed and covered him with a tarp. Shit was bad enough, didn't need to get pulled over by the cops for drivin' around with a fucking body in the back.

 

The Watcher sat in the cab, jaw clenched so tight he thought that ligaments should have popped like busted rubber bands as they made their way back to the house.

 

Cas refused to let him burn the body.

 

So here they were, on a freezing cold January morning, silent. Too cold to even cry. If the hunter were the cryin' type of course.

 

They all startled when Cas turned away first, shoes crunching on frost hardened earth, and disappeared behind a sea of cars as dead and gone as the beautiful boy in the ground.

 

He was gone by the time they finished.

 

\- - - - -

 

_London, England  
Watcher's Council Headquarters_

 

Balthazar tore him away from a visibly shaken Naomi with a vice-grip around his chest.

 

She should be shaken. He was furious. It was because of her and her ridiculous bureaucracy that Dean had walked into that trap. He would hold her responsible. Locked deep in the recesses of her precious Council's library were sources of ancient magics that could bring his hunter back to him. She would give it to him. Or she would die.

 

His friend managed to drag him into the outer office before his rage and grief sucked him under like a riptide and he turned into the hold, swinging until his fist connected with that snarky bastard's jaw. Balthazar acknowledged the blow with a solemn, concerned look in his eyes, but neither released his arm or stopped pulling on him. It rankled. “Castiel, you've got to get a hold of yourself, man!” He snarled. “Why, Balthazar?! Why?! He was a child! He had no right to throw his life away for mine! To sacrifice himself and make some bloody hero's speech!” His arm reared back again, needing to feel the sharp pain of his knuckles shattering on bone, to spill his blood into the gaping chasm in his soul where Dean had dug himself a neat hole and then ripped it out in tatters.

 

Balthazar growled, and he should have heard the warning in it and relented, but it only drove him further. Balthazar grabbed his fist, and his first thought would have been a triumphant roar that he had been freed, but then his friend smashed his nose with a perfectly executed punch to the face. Stunned, he sank to his knees, hand still caught in Balthazar's iron fist.

 

The pain was...exquisite. For a few breathless moments his mind cleared.

 

And then it was just pain.

 

He touched his fingers to his face and was almost surprised to find them bloody when they pulled away. He stared up at his friend, and felt the first tears he had shed since that morning prickle and blur his vision. The icy coldness in the eyes above him melted into a softer look. “It hurts.” He stared. Fucking obviously, berk. Balthazar snorted inelegantly. “You feel it. Don't you?”

 

He choked on a sob. Of course he _felt_ it. The realization startled him. He had felt nothing but numb, long before Bobby had found him lying wrapped around Dean's cold body on his living room floor. “Do you know what he said to me, Balthazar? Right before... He said that I had to take care of them. His friends. His family. That they would need me. Because he would be _gone_. He told me I had to be strong for him. To live, for him.” His voice cracked, and the floodgates released.

 

Grabbing a fistful of Balthazar's too-expensive jacket, he dragged his friend down to the floor. Arms wrapped around him and he gave himself over to the pain clawing its way up his throat. “He died, Balthazar. He's dead, because the bloody fool went and decided _I_ was worth loving. And now I'm never going to hear his laugh again, see his stupid gorgeous ass in a pair of stupid jeans again, feel his lips on mine...” The admission was a mere whisper as he buried his face into his friend's chest. He spent every last ounce of his guilt, his shame against a ridiculously soft shirt, mindless of the people in the office creeping out uncomfortably at his unseemly show of emotion. Fuck them all.

 

When he could breathe again without feeling like each breath stolen from his lover's lungs was scraping him raw, he pulled back to find Balthazar's eyes on him as he stroked a comforting hand through his hair. “I have to get him back Balthazar. I can't be strong. Not without him. Please. I need your help.” They stared at each other for one long minute before resignation crept into pale blue eyes.

 

An imperceptible nod. An overwhelming feeling of relief. He sucked in a shuddering breath through his broken nose and coughed on a gag as blood slipped hot and thick down his throat. Smaller breaths, then, and the two men separated.

 

Balthazar helped him to his feet and he cast a glance over his shoulder at the door to Naomi's office. Let the frigid bitch sit in fear. He had things to do. He gave his friend a crooked ghost of a smile, but it fell when he noticed the blood and snot and tears smeared onto the shoulder of his shirt and jacket. “Sorry about that.” Balthazar frowned in question and he motioned to the mess. His friend looked down with a bemused smirk. “Well, it was about time that I got my hands dirty.” He backed toward the door and favored Castiel with a wry grin. “What do you say? Let's go save your boy, Cassie.”

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh...hey! i have been fighting with this fucking chapter for _months_ and it just would not fucking cooperate. 
> 
> endless apologies for the horrendous wait, but forcing myself to finish something only earns me crap writing. 
> 
> **warning for** : non-con groping, attempted rape, some majorly painful dialogue
> 
>  
> 
> (also...i have no idea whatsoever when i will have another chapter for you. i'm working on a million and one projects right now including DCBB and i just let my muse tell me what to write. i hope you stick with me anyway!)

 

The passing of time has made him numb.

 

Each day he's been torn apart beneath Alastair's hands, but he doesn't even really feel it anymore. After what feels like centuries – hell, it could literally _be_ centuries for how strangely time seems to move there – he's learned to numb out to the scrape and scratch and slice of Alastair's toys.

 

His skin is smooth and perfect now, but the pride he used to take in his body, even with all of the scars he'd collected from a few short years of serious hunting – scars that Cas once traced with lips and fingers so tenderly contradictory to the violent ways each had been earned – that pride has been replaced with a tired sort of objective contemplation.

 

Sometimes he tries to remember what Cas' hands felt like on him, fingertips pressing into his hips with a grip so tight he felt like he'd be left marked with ten distinct spots of whorls and arches. Or how he used to just watch him from across a room, blue eyes full to bursting with whatever he was feeling, so without artifice that Dean felt stripped down to muscle and bone under the intensity of _anyone_ looking at him like that.

 

Sometimes it's the only thing that keeps him going, but the memories are fading.

 

Sometimes all he sees when he looks down at himself is blank canvas for Alastair to rip and shred for the sake of his twisted entertainment.

 

Today is _different_...somehow.

 

The dusty, stifling air feels solid with _something_ when he tries to drag it into his lungs and ends up choking.

 

He's waited in the cramped space of his cage for hours, days maybe. He can't tell anymore. His only focus is on sipping at the air, shallow breaths barely lifting his chest.

 

He expected to be pulled from the cage and spread like a table cloth over his captor's rack bright and early, like every day. He doesn't know why he hasn't.

 

 

So he waits.

 

He wishes something would just... _happen_ already.

 

But nothing does.

 

\- -

 

Dean sits for ages.

 

Sits so long he thinks his bones have probably crumbled away like an old lady's, muscles turned to useless lumps of atrophied meat.

 

He's long since stopped trying to get comfortable and just...sits.

 

His back has been pressed against the frigid Hell-forged bars of his cage for so long he thinks he can feel them trying to embed themselves in his skin. One cheek rests against his knees, feeling the ache of sleep deprivation throbbing behind his eyes, cutting like acid in his gut.

 

He has been tired, so tired, for so long.

 

He contemplates closing his eyes and pretending to sleep. It never works, but sometimes he catches flashes of memory that almost feel like dreams.

 

His lids begin to fall shut – a useless endeavor, he knows – when suddenly the enormous carved doors slam open with a crash. He's almost too tired to play whatever game Alastair is setting up this time, but he raises his head anyway to throw a glare of challenge at the smug demonic asshole.

 

The half-terrified half-deliriously relieved gasp he can't hold back fills his chest with burning desert sand, but its enough air to breath out the name he never thought he'd say again.

 

One last thought flits through his oxygen-starved brain cells as his vision goes black.

 

Fucking one hell of a dream.

 

\- - -

 

Dean doesn't know what wakes him. A blissfully cool, not-Hell's-billowing-furnace breeze skates over his bare skin.

 

Skin that has that raw, over-scrubbed, 'out damned spot!' kind of feeling, but he feels whole and clean nonetheless.

 

Cool sheets beneath him, over him. A pillow?

 

He cracks an eye, jerking out of the last clinging arms of sleep when he finds himself in an all-too-familiar bedroom.

 

Cas' bedroom.

 

How?

 

After staring around frantically for God only knew how long trying to make heads or tails of whatever Twilight Zone dimension he's fallen into, he pinches himself, stifling hysterical giggles that skirt the very razor edge of screams at doing something so ridiculous.

 

It hurt though.

 

He tugs at his hair, hard. Yup. Hurts.

 

He scrapes fingernails in white-red-white lines down his forearms until blood rushes to the surface staining his fingertips pink.

 

Well then.

 

The room is dead silent, and empty, only the sound of his harsh breathing coming back to him.

 

If he's here...where's Cas?

 

Did Cas...save him?

 

Why can't he remember anything?

 

Maybe Cas is somewhere else in the house, waiting for him to wake up.

  
It kinda stings that Cas isn't here already. Didn't people do that in like movies and stuff? Refuse to leave the bedside of the person they loved, all tearful and angsty waiting for them to open their eyes?

 

He huffs a sigh and sits up, pleased with the lack of grinding pain in his joints and muscles. Looking around he can't see any sign of clothing, but he was naked in the cage wasn't he? Not feeling like digging through Cas' clothes right that minute – not that Cas' doesn't give him that hot, hard look whenever he wears his clothes – Dean just gathers the sheet around him, holding it closed with a fist and makes his way slow to the door, dragging it behind him like the train of a dress.   
  
He'll feel silly about it later.

 

\- -

 

Cas is nowhere to be found.

 

He's looked through every damned room of the whole damned house and can't find the beautiful bastard anywhere.

 

What the hell?

 

His heart breaks a little, aches.

 

Why would Cas just _leave_?

 

Dean isn't at all sure what day it is, but surely Cas wouldn't just go to work and leave him there, after going though God knew what to get him out of Hell.

He sinks down on the couch, huddles around a pain that feels worse than anything Alastair ever tortured him with.

 

He waits.

 

\- - -

 

Dean wakes, groggy and stiff from apparently falling asleep where he sat. Floorboards creak overhead and his breath stops in his chest.

 

Without a second thought he's stumbling up the stairs, tripping over the sheet still wrapped around his nakedness, throwing open the bedroom door.

 

A sob of relief tears through his chest when he sees Cas, hair damp from a shower, pulling on a shirt with his back to the room.

 

“Cas!” His voice is rusty, hoarse from disuse, but its enough.

 

Cas turns to him with a bland smile and continues to button his shirt.

 

“Hello, Dean.” He says in greeting, like its any old fucking day of the week and not...

 

Dean runs to him, throwing his arms around him and buries his face into warm skin. Cas pats him on the back casually and he pulls back in confusion, eyes searching his face.

 

“Cas? What-”

 

He can't even finish his thought before he launches himself into Cas' arms again, mouth desperate as he kisses him.

 

“Oh God, Cas! I couldn't find you! I was so worried!” His voice cracks with the weight of everything he's feeling right this minute.

 

“Sorry, pet. Didn't mean to worry you.” Cas cups his cheek for a moment before stepping away to finish dressing.

 

Dean feels his brows creasing with a frown at Cas' seeming indifference.

 

“Where were you?” He tries not to sound accusatory...but damn.

 

Cas looks at him over his shoulder and shrugs. “I was out. The world in fact, did not end, and some of us have responsibilities.”

 

Anger like molten steel flashes through him. “What the fuck, Cas? I mean, you got me out of freaking Hell, man, and you're just...'life goes on?' You just _left_ me here. I woke up alone freaking out!”

 

Cas rolls his eyes. “What do you want me to say Dean? I saved you, yes. It's my _job_ to save you from your foolish mistakes. Did you really think I would wait around forever? Make sweet love to you the moment you awoke?” Cas scoffs. “Hardly.”

 

Dean feels himself go cold. He thinks he might be sick. “What are you saying?” His voice quavers, and he fucking hates that he feels so weak.

 

Cas turns, crossing his arms over his chest. “You're damaged goods now, Dean.” He speaks slowly, as if Dean were a kid who just didn't get why he couldn't have what he wanted. “How could I want you after you let that _monster_ touch you.”

 

Dean chokes on bile. “No Cas! What are you-? No. No, no. Please don't do this.” He sinks to the ground as his knees disappear from under him, sheet pooling around him.

 

“But then again, monsters are rather your type, aren't they?” Dean stares up, pleadingly, but Cas' face is hard. “I haven't forgotten about dear old Benny.” He spits out the name like something foul.

 

“Cas...”

 

Cas looks down at him imperiously, then sighs in exasperation. “Let's not make an issue out of it, hmm? I believe you said it well; 'life goes on.'”

 

Cas moves to brush past him and Dean grabs onto his legs. “Cas, please! I don't understand. It wasn't my fault. I didn't...It wasn't-”

 

Cas sighs again and reaches down to brush a hand over his cheek. He pushes against the touch, wanting to beg Cas to tell him this is just a huge misunderstanding. “Come here, pet.”

 

Dean scrambles to his feet, not letting go as he practically climbs Cas' unyielding body. Cas shushes him when whimpering sobs start pushing through his chest. Hands slide down his back, the touch soothing. He just wants to be held. He just wants Cas to love him.

 

He startles when fingers push underneath the edge of the sheet tied around his hips, loosening it. Cas' hands palm his ass, squeezing. He tries to shove back from Cas, but is held fast in arms like steel bands.

 

“What are you doing?!”

 

A familiar laugh rolls out of Cas' lips and turns his blood to ice.

 

The hands on him pull him in roughly against Ca- No. This isn't Cas. It's _never been_ Cas. He feels the hard press of an erection he is intimately familiar with against his stomach and his guts churn. He shoves again at the demon wearing his lover's body fruitlessly. Hot breath gusts over his ear and he feels like screaming when a tongue licks over his skin.

 

“Isn't this what you wanted, pet? It's all you could think about when I had my hands on you. I just thought we could use a change of scenery, that's all. No need to play hard to get.” Teeth nip sharp and painful against his lobe. “Though I do love it when you struggle.”

 

Dean is frantic. Clawing ineffectually at the demon, a high keening whine of horror building in his throat. He beats his fists, trying to draw his arms back enough to punch, and the fucker just _laughs_.

 

“Oh, Deano. What do you think you're going to do here, hmm? Fight me? _Kill_ me? Not while I'm wearing the pretty Watcher's skin.” The demon throws him off, his back colliding with the dresser and his vision greys with the force of it.

 

The sheet is long gone. He's trembling, but somehow manages to contort his body into a fighting stance. He has...no fucking chance here, but he can't stop. He can't. He wants to tear his own skin off, but first he'll try to take a bit off of the demon. He's choking on tears as he calls up the words to the first exorcism he can remember.

 

The demon only laughs harder.

 

“Do you know what I find the most amusing, Dean? How _little_ you actually know about good, sweet _Cas_. You actually believed he loved you, didn't you? Oh that is precious. I'm sure he got a wonderful laugh at how easily you got on all fours like a bitch and gave it up. Hardly a challenge.”

 

Dean lunges, only to end up slammed against the dresser again with an offhand flick of the demon's wrist. He gasps as the air is expelled from his lungs. “You fucking...shut the fuck up. You don't know Cas.”  
  


“Ah but I do! I've been inside him, or didn't he tell you? Castiel was my most favorite body to wear.” The demon strokes Cas' hand down his front with a soft sigh. “We had such fun together. Such darkness in that one.”

 

“No! You're lying. Fucking-” Suddenly the demon is in front of him, a hand around his throat. His limbs are pinned down and his chest heaves with breaths that tear out of him. He struggles against the invisible bonds, hard, until his muscles are screaming with pain. The demon stares down at him with a maniacal grin, just...waiting.

 

With a sob he lets himself go limp, squeezes his eyes shut in what he hopes looks like defeat.

 

“Mm, not giving up already, are you pet?” Dean opens his eyes, lets bitter tears fill them. “You know you want it. Don't you?”

 

It takes everything he has, his heart and soul screaming for Cas as the demon touches him. Dean waits until the demon loosens the bonds around him enough to slide a thigh between his own and takes a shuddering breath.

 

A mouth trails wet and disgusting up to his ear. “That's right. Just surrender. You can't kill me. You won't.”

 

He grits his teeth and fights with every ounce of strength he's ever had and slams his knee up hard, crushing it into the groin of the dickless bastard who fucking dares to use Cas against him.

 

Blue eyes widen in shocked surprise and the demon crumples to the floor in a groaning heap. The room around them melts back into the bare stone walls of Hell as the demon struggles. Dean aims a kick at the demon's stomach, fucking knowing before he does it he's gonna break the shit out of his foot, but does it anyway.

 

“Fucking give me time, asshole.”

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is interested in the character parallels I have come up with, or if you're struggling to figure out who's supposed to be who, feel free to ask :D


End file.
